


Sexiest Man Alive

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Dean, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst, Doctor Castiel, Established Relationship, Fighting, First Dates, First Meeting, Happy Ending, Insecure Dean, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Memories, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9370727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: Cas' struggles at dating actor Dean Winchester, as told through fights and longing, phone calls and memories.





	1. Present

When the phone rang loudly in his pocket, Castiel didn't have to look to know who was calling. It was midnight there in New York, which meant that it was nine p.m. in California. A fairly early evening, he noted in a bit of surprise.  
  
"Congratulations," a low voice drawled over the line. "You're officially dating the Sexiest Man Alive."  
  
Castiel could picture the dumb, self-satisfied grin that Dean was surely wearing in that moment, which could only make him roll his own eyes as he shuffled his feet along the pavement. "Yes, I had seen that."  
  
If he was being honest, the whole thing annoyed Castiel more than anything else. He already knew how incredibly handsome Dean was (hence why he was dating him....?) But he also knew that Dean was much more than a pretty face. He was talented and generous and nerdy and quite funny and a great cook, none of which was highlighted in any of those stupid rags.  
  
And it's not like his ego needed the boost.  
  
Dean's voice on the line brought Cas back to the present. "Did you buy the magazine? Gonna keep it under your pillow and kiss my picture goodnight?"  
  
Cas halted his feet where he was walking on the sidewalk. "Dean, when are you coming home?"  
  
Up until then, Dean's voice had been coated in his trademark charm. Now though, his tone changed; his voice became stripped, a little more real.  
  
"Soon, baby," he soothed. "Real soon."  
  
Cas didn't bother to hide his groan. It was always soon, always next week. And then the next week would roll around and there'd be another phone call that said _Baby I'm sorry but..._  
  
The Sexiest Man Alive chose to pointedly ignore that sound of displeasure and allowed some of the charm to wash back into his voice. "How was your shift? That asshole Zach still ridin' you?"  
  
The very mention of his boss made Castiel want to make another grunt, but this time he held back. He focused on digging his keys out of his pocket and sighed into the phone. "No. Not any more than usual, at least. It was just a long day. I'm tired."  
  
"Go take a nice, hot shower and crawl into that big, comfy bed you have over there."  
  
Castiel turned his key in the lock. ”Mmm, that would be much more appealing if my boyfriend were here to join me."  
  
"Cas." Dean sounded serious now. "You know I'd be there if I could."  
  
Cas sighed again as he tossed his knapsack onto the floor and allowed his body to sink into the couch. Maeve came mewling across the room, nuzzling her head against his legs.  
  
"I know. I know. Sorry, I'm being unfair."  
  
Dean heaved a loud breath over the receiver. "I miss you like crazy."  
  
Finally, a smile managed to crack its way over Castiel's face. "What, all those fangirls screaming their adoration aren't enough for you?”  
  
"Hm, I'm more of a fanboy kind of guy," Dean mused playfully. "Actually, there's one specific one I've got my eye on..."  
  
They shared a giggle. Cas let his fingers curl over Maeve’s round little head. “The cat misses you.”  
  
“Tell her I'll be home soon. And then we’ll snuggle up in bed, all three of us, and not get out for a week.”  
  
“Alright. I’ll tell her,” Castiel grumbled, looking into her pretty amber eyes and sighing deeply. “What's up for tomorrow? Big day?”  
  
“Ah, y’know. Taking out bad guys, saving the world from certain destruction,” Dean replies in a joking tone. “Just a typical Tuesday.”  
  
Castiel chuckled as his brain started to slow down. He could hear the exhaustion creeping in to his voice. “Alright well I ought to head off to that big, comfy bed. Have fun saving the world tomorrow, Captain Fantastic.”  
  
Dean replied in a tone so sweet, it made Castiel’s heart ache with wanting. “You too, Doctor Novak.”  
  
Cas let the call hang in their air for a few seconds before he hung up. Maeve purred loudly, nuzzling against his leg. Cas couldn't bring himself to appreciate the (rare) loving contact. He could only focus on how empty the apartment felt.


	2. Past

They had met, some years before, in what had probably been the biggest surprise of Castiel's life up until then. He was in his residency then, so busy he barely had time to check his Tinder let alone spend any time thinking about real, live, right in front of him men.

So of course that was was exactly when an extra special visitor had chosen to make his appearance.

Hester, the attending on duty who’d taken a special shining to Castiel, had pulled him aside with what could only be described as a conspiratorial look on her face.

"What." Cas had said- not asked- with a grim expression.

"I am only doing this because I trust you implicitly," she explained cryptically. "And because I am far too busy to handle something like this right now."

He repeated his earlier sentiment. "What."

"Exam Room 3. Be ready. And do not embarrass me."

The smile she gave him as she walked away was encouraging, but her mysterious message left Castiel unable to do anything other than quirk a curious eyebrow in her direction. He shook his head, tilted his head back and drained the last drops of his coffee and tossed the cup into the garbage. Then he pattered down the hall toward Exam Room 3, not sure what to expect behind the door.

He certainly didn’t expect to find Dean Winchester sitting there.

He didn’t expect him to be there, right in front of Cas, in a certain state of undress, with his muscles flexed, and his perfect, white teeth and… oh Lord.

Cas cleared his throat, and shut the door quietly behind him. Dean Winchester looked up at him. ( _Dean Winchester. At him_.)

“Hey, doc,” he said, and his voice startled Cas a little, the way that it was so smooth and deep and just very something.

Cas scrunched his brows together, confused by his own reactions. He didn’t watch action movies, he loathed celebrity gossip rags— why was he feeling so starstruck?

“Good afternoon,” he muttered, keeping his eyes focused on the chart he held in his hands. He'd been single too long, couldn’t look a handsome guy in the face without turning into mush. He repeated Hester’s warning to him in his head like a mantra: _do not embarrass me, do not embarrass me, do not embarrass me._

“What seems to be the problem here?” he asked amiably.

“Uh, you wanna take a guess?”

Finally, Cas brought his eyes up to look at the man in front of him. When he did, his eyes caught sight of a deep gash on one of his thighs. His jeans were ripped and largely stained with blood. Cas blinked resolutely. “Let me just put on some gloves.”

He went to the wall and extracted two latex gloves and placed them on his hands. Then he walked, slowly, over to the patient and applied a light pressure to the wound. The patient inhaled with a sharp hiss. Castiel looked up suddenly and stilled, frozen in his spot by too-green eyes and fancy, white smiles.

Dean Winchester grimaced and spoke to him in a voice that was very gruff. “What d’ya think, doc? You gonna have to stitch me up?”

Castiel glanced up at him from under thick eyelashes, features coated with confusion. Dean Winchester’s face changed suddenly, faltered a bit, like he'd tried to make a joke and it had fallen flat.

“That’s, uh," he mumbled, “that’s like my, uh, catchphrase. On the show.”

Castiel grimaced as he reached over for some antiseptic wipes and began to clean some of the blood from the injury. “I… I’ve never actually seen your show. I’m sorry.”

Dean Winchester chuckled at that, even while he winced at the sting of the alcohol on his open wound. “No, don’t be sorry. You’re busy saving lives, of course you don’t have time for crap TV shows.”

The comment makes Cas uncomfortable, so he tries to steer the conversation back towards a professional place. “How did you manage to get a slice like this in your leg?”

“Bad run-in with a sword.”

A slow nod from Castiel came as the response. “That’s a new one. But then again, this is New York City…”

“Big, bad city for a little guy like me,” Dean Winchester said, in that same gruff tone of voice from before, and he looked down expectantly at his doctor. Cas offered a broken smile as he turned away to gather the rest of his necessary supplies.

“Wow, man,” exhaled the actor. “You really don’t watch a lot of anything, do you?”

Castiel readied a needle and medical thread to begin patching up the laceration. The conversation flowed easier if he could forget who he was talking to and just see a leg with a cut that needed stitches. In fact, when he thought about a young man who’d received a rather large injury from a sword, he thought it was possible that he might even be on a higher intellectual plane than his conversation partner. Though he kept that to himself.

“Bet you spend all your downtime with your nose in a book,” the patient continued. “Feedin’ that big, doctor brain.”

Surprisingly, Castiel smiled at that as he took a pair of scissors to the medical thread. "I prefer to paint in my spare time.”

“Oh yeah, van Gogh? You ever need any models?” He leans in a bit and adds with a waggle of the eyebrows, “You know... nude ones?”

He could have frozen up at all, gone awkward at the idea of Dean stripped down even more than he was here, but instead he cracked another smother. “I tend to like my subjects a bit smaller than you, Mr. Winchester.”

 _Oh,_ Castiel paused at his own informality. Was he allowed to address him by name? He wasn’t sure of the rules in this sort of situation, the possible implications for the hospital, and by extension, his career.

But Dean Winchester just laughed him off, swatting a hand through the air as he insisted, “Oh, come on. It’s Dean, please. Anyway, what do you paint, then? Midgets? Dogs?”

“Alright, Dean,” Castiel stifled a laugh as he finished up his last stitch, "I like to paint bees.”

“Bees?"

“Yes, bees. In watercolors.”

A look akin to wonder formed over the features of Dean Winchester’s incredibly handsome face. It was like a gift to see it. Castiel would definitely have to give his extended thanks to Hester for the opportunity to stitch up a man whose next starring role, as far as Castiel was concerned, would be in his own personal late-night fantasies.

“Why bees?” Dean questioned as he began to slip a flannel back on over his arms. Castiel frowned as the materials for his fantasy slipped further way.

“I’m concerned for them. The North American population is declining at an alarming rate.”

"It is?” Dean asked with what apeared to be genuine worry.

“Yes. I watched a very compelling documentary about it.”

“Huh.”

At that point, Cas redirected the conversation toward after-care, asked Mr. Winchester to kindly refrain from any more interactions with a sword- or to at least be more careful around them if that was altogether too impossible- and promised to take him through the back exit of the hospital to keep up his guise of mystery.

"Thanks, Doc,” Dean smiled at him, and Cas thought that if nothing else, he could save that little memory to keep him warm in his lonely bed tonight. Dean was just throwing his jacket on when he turned with a sudden intensity and said, “Hey. What was the name of that bee documentary?”

Cas, thrown off by the serious tone with which he was being interrogated, felt his mind go totally blank. “I—uh, I can’t remember.”

Dean nodded a few times, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out his wallet. He opened it up and extracted a small, white rectangle which he promptly handed to Cas.

“Here, take my card. When you remember the name, you can give me a call.”

Cas grew suspicious. His gaze moved from the card, to Dean, back to the card again. “This is your real number?" he asked skeptically.

"I dunno,” replied Dean coyly. “Why don’t you try it out and see?” He capped the suggestion with a wink that gave Cas a whole rush of something he was not prepared for when he came into work this morning.

Castiel looked him over again. “I could sell this, you know. Probably make a lot of money.”

Dean responded by shoving both hands back into his pocket and coughing out a dry laugh. “Something tells me that a guy who paints bees because he’s concerned for their well-being wouldn’t screw me over like that,” he looked Cas straight in the eyes, and the green of his irises almost made Cas lose all the breath in his lungs. “But maybe I'm wrong. Anyway, I'm willing to take the risk."

 _Yes_ , Castiel agreed to himself with a silent smile. _Me too_.


	3. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, the chapters alternate between the present and the past. The phone calls the place in present, and the other chapters are memories.

A few weeks later, when Castiel shut the door to their apartment behind them, his heart hung with a mixture of joy and sadness. He leaned his weight against the door and sighed.

Dean was gone, again. Cas had just walked him down to the curb where he could meet his car, and even the heated ten minute make-out session couldn't help to lift his spirits.

Castiel shuffled into the kitchen, passing a glance at the cabinet. Even a soothing cup of his favorite tea seemed too much energy right now. All he wanted was to crawl under his blankets and sleep to forget the way his chest hurt. 

Everytime Dean came home, it was like a whole new world. Like everything was rose-tinted and sweet kisses and laughing in bed together-- just utter perfection... for three days, or a week or two. And then he was off again and his side of the bed was just cold, ruffled sheets.

Cas reached over the side of the bed for the phone he'd left almost completely forgotten for the past few days. 

 _I miss you already_ , he sent with a frown and waited impatiently for a reply.

It was barely thirty seconds before Dean wrote back. _Haha. That quick, huh?_

 _> >>Yes. I'm cuddling in bed and missing every part of you_. 

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to push away the sadness that threatened to weigh him down. 

_< <<Well if it helps at all, I definitely know how you feel._

A few seconds passed before another message rolled in. 

_< <<.... which parts specifically are you missing? _

"Hmm," Cas hummed ruefully to himself, the corners of his lips twisting up. The ache in his chest was turning into something different now. 

_> >>I miss your mouth on my body and your hands on my ass. _

He wondered what Dean would say to that. It was always a guessing game with him, sexting _._ Sometimes he was more than happy to play along, and other times he would scold Cas, tell him that he had to be professional and he couldn't focus if Cas insisted on distracting him. 

 _< <<Jesus Christ, Cas_. 

_< <<How am I supposed to react to that in the back of a car?_

Success _._

_> >>You can react however you please. You can also imagine how I'm reacting right now. _

Cas' hand circled along his hipbone, teasing himself while his arousal grew. He stared anxiously at his screen, waiting for Dean to continue the dirty exchange. 

A minute later, it wasn't a message  came through, but a phone call. Cas didn't waste a second in answering. 

 "I thought you were in a car," Cas teased, his hand moving to graze his inner thigh. 

"Yeah, well," Dean grumbled, "there's a partition. And what else are tinted windows for?"

The sound of Dean's voice in his ear made him feel warm all over and definitely sent something to his crotch. 

"God, do you have any fucking clue what you do to me, Cas?"

"No. Maybe a picture would help me to remember."

"Ughh," Dean let out a long, tortured groan. "You're so fucking bad." 

Castiel chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, rocking his hips a little. He bit off the tiniest hint of a moan, just to see what it would do to Dean. He was rewarded with a few heaving pants of breathe. 

"Mmm, yeah? You like when I'm bad?" He dropped his voice low, spoke slow so his voice sounded like syrup. "Like when I'm a bad boy just for you?"

It was wrong, so wrong, the picture of Dean unbuckling his belt in the backseat of some fancy limousine that the production company had sent for him. But for it to be Castiel causing it, for him to have some measure of power over Dean Winchester's sexual desires.... well, it certainly did something to him. 

"Cas." Dean panted his name with a whine. "Jesus-- fuck. I can't believe how  much I fucked the shit out of you this morning, and I'm still sitting here pawing my dick like I'm sixteen."

The second the words left Dean's lips, Cas felt a heated blush crawl over his face. He pushed down the shy part of himself and allowed the indulgent aide to come forward. 

"I wish you still were," he whispered breathily into the phone. "Wish you were here right now, fucking me into the mattress."

Only huffs of air served as a response. Castiel went on, spewing words and pictures he knew would drive Dean wild. 

"Wish you would pull me by my hair and... oh fuck," he paused, stroking his hand over his cock in a way that sent shivers to his core. 

"And what, baby?" Dean asked in a low tone. "What do you want me to do to you?"

"Oh shit. Want you to fuck me. Want you to come in me, come on me. Oh fuck, Dean."

 A noise came over the line that made Castiel too turned on to speak. He continued to move his hand furiously along his length.

"You like that, Cas?" Dean huffed out eventually, quiet, private. "Like when I make you mine like that? Fuck-- you're so sexy. Love when you're all mine."

Cas' voice caught in his throat. He nodded his head, eyes drifting closed, though he knew Dean couldn't see what he was doing. But he was picturing it. And he knew that Dean knew how much he liked it. 

Before he even knew what was happening, Castiel felt himself spilling onto his hand, all over the sheets. Dean panted his name a few times and then followed. Just as Cas was wondering how Dean planned to deal with that mess in the back of a towncar, he heard a breathy laugh over the line. 

"Jesus, man," Dean was telling him. "You turn me into a freaking teenager sometimes."

Cas just hummed happily into his phone. "I love you," he said simply. 

"Shit. I love you so fucking much." He could practically picture Dean's face when he said it: eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, cheeks flushing just a bit. 

His heart felt light again, like the perfect remedy had been administered. "Come home to me soon, yeah?" 

"I'm counting the seconds, babe." 

They stayed there, comfortable in each other's presence, happy just to have one another on the line, for a few minutes. Cas listened absently to the traffic that buzzed in the background, the subtle exhales of Dean's breathing. 

"You know what we should do? When I get back?"

"What's that?" Cas indulged the question. 

"We should take a trip."

"Yeah?" Cas smiled. "Where to?"

"I dunno, man. Disneyworld, or Paris, or Butte, Montana. Anywhere I can be with you."

Cas' smile flickered momentarily. "Okay, Dean. That sounds good." 

Dean sounded as if he were offended. "You're saying that like you don't believe I'll do it."

Honestly, he didn't believe it. It took so much wrestling and scheduling and finagling just to get Dean back to New York for any reasonable amount of time. Stealing him for a vacation just seemed outside the realm of possibility to Cas. 

But Dean probably genuinely believed that it would happen. And more importantly, he _wanted_ to take Cas on a vacation. So, certainly Cas wasn't going to rain on his parade. 

"I mean it, Cas," he said after a moment with intense conviction. "Anywhere you wanna go. I'll take you. You deserve it."

And, even if he didn't really put any stock into the idea, Cas was so honestly touched that he sounded like he meant it when he told Dean, "I'm already looking forward to it. Really."

"You promise?" Dean asked, a little skeptically. 

"I promise."

The sigh that came as response sounded more than a little relieved. Cas felt good about the exchange. He was glad he'd called. 

"Okay. I better go. We're pulling up to JFK now."

Cas didn't groan or whine, though he wanted to. He'd gotten to steal Dean for a little bit more time just for himself, and he couldn't be mad about that. 

"Alright," Cas sighed, rolling over onto his back. "I'm thinking of you. Every minute."

"Hey, same here," Dean told him. "I'll call you when I land. Love you."

"I love you," Cas said, and hung up the phone. He threw the blankets of his legs and walked, nude, into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. 


	4. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause between updates. I've been busy with work and other creative endeavors lately. Plus I'm a bit of a perfectionist and am still trying to figure this one out. Please let me know what you think! xoxo

Castiel held onto the card for more than a week. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the embossed lettering and the grain of the thick paper. He ran his fingers over it so many times, he could have described it to you blindfolded, in great detail, like a sommelier of handsome men's business cards.

Except this wasn't just any handsome man. It wasn't like he'd gone out to happy hour and been chatted up by some fancy lawyer or something. This was Dean Winchester. How could he even think about calling him up out of the blue? 

"Just do it," Hester implored him one day, with a serious roll of the eyes. She'd been watching Castiel play with the card like he was reading Braille. "He gave it to you so you could call him."

Hester was the sole individual to whim Castiel had disclosed any part of the exchange, and even that was only because she'd immediately tracked him down to ask how things had gone with his celebrity guest. Cas wouldn't even know how to bring it up to anyone else. They would have thought he was making it up-- or, even worse, bragging. 

Castiel was not a braggart. That in itself should be a reason not to call, shouldn't it? Then there'd be the story of the date he had (or didn't have) with Dean Winchester, and he'd have to tell it at parties like some quirky little anecdote over and over, and it would be embarassing and he'd feel weird about it. 

"I don't know," he sighed, instead of saying all of that to Hester. "What would we even talk about?"

She snorted. "A face like that, who needs to talk?"

Castiel shot her a look. He opened his mouth to retort, just as a group of surgeons wandered into the room in the middle of their own discussion. Cas hastened to shove the card back into his wallet and stood from the chair he'd been sitting in. 

"I've got to go," he announced to the room. Hester stared at him across the now-crowded table and mouthed, _Call him_. Cas pretended not to see her and left the room. 

He had nowhere he actually had to be just then. He only knew he couldn't be in there anymore. He thought about pulling the card out again, but stopped himself. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. It was a silly, insipid little crush, and he wasn't doing himself any favors by putting it onto a pedestal. 

Cas steered himself toward the on-call room and prayed that it was empty. He opened the door and gave a cursory glance, saw no sleeping heads in any of the bunks. 

Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number he had long-since memorized.

He thought he'd get a personal assistant or something. He'd leave a message, something quick and concise, and then maybe he'd get a call back--

"Hello?"

Or that he'd just be connected directly to Dean. Dean Winchester. Whatever.

Castiel almost dropped the phone. Honestly, he didn't know who he was turning into.

He coughed once into his elbow and then turned to speak into the receiver. "Yes. Hello. Dean?"

A chuckle that was soft and warm floated over the line. "You've got him. Who's this?"

"This is Dr. Novak." Cas felt a dark blush creeping up his neck. "You gave me your card last week... when you got stabbed."

"Oh, right. Dr. Sexy." Does he lay it on this thick for everyone, or is he just a natural charmer? Cas had to wonder at that. "Did you remember the name of that bee movie?"

"Yes, actually, I did."

A pause followed. Castiel was trying to be alluring, but he wondered if maybe he shouldn't just spit it out. 

Before he could though, Dean spoke up again. "Fantastic. Why don't you tell it to me over dinner next week? I'm in LA now but I'll be back in New York then."

 Castiel nodded slowly for a few seconds before he remembered himself. "Next week? Sure. I'll check my schedule and see which evenings work for me."

"Yes, of course, your schedule. I guess saving the lives of innocent citizens comes before a rinky-dink little date, hm?"

Dean was teasing. Castiel knew that. Still, his mouth went dry at the word _date_ leaving Dean's lips. 

He was going on a date with Dean Winchester. 

He didn't even _like_ action movies.

"I've got to run," Dean said just then. "I'm on set and I've got a PA breathing down my neck trying to get me back."

"Right. On set. Of your TV show," Castiel narrated his thoughts aloud. "Because you're an actor."

Dean chuckled one last time. "And yet you're the one with the more impressive career."

Cas liked the sound of Dean's voice when he was teasing. It was sweet and light, and made every word sound intimate. 

"I don't know about that," Cas grumbled slightly. 

"Well, I do." A gruff voice in the background on Dean's end yelled his name.

" _I'm coming, I'm coming_ ," Dean answered with equal crassness. "Alright, doc. I'll text you later for that schedule. You copy?"

"Copy."

"Alright then." Cas pictured Dean's smile in his mind. His perfect teeth and his green eyes, twinkling _. Get yourself together_. "Talk to you soon."

"Goodbye," Cas murmured dreamily and hit the end call button. 

He sincerely hoped that this sort of schoolgirl nonsense going on in his head (and chest) was only a symptom of daydreams. Surely, when he could see Dean as a real physical person in front of him, he'd calm down. Hopefully. 

In any case, he spun out the door and went to track down Hester. He had to tell _someone_ about this. 

**

So Dean Winchester's number was in his phone. He was exchanging texts with Dean Winchester.

He would walk into the break room and see on the television screen the face of the person that he had texted the night before.  

It was a strange adjustment.

When they had their date the next week, Cas could barely keep eye contact. Which was a damn shame because the way Dean's eyes shone in candle light of the intimate little bistro was really something else. 

They met at the restaurant: a tiny, dimly-lit hole in the wall that Cas might have strolled right past if he'd been walking down the street. The people here seemed unfazed by the presence of a celebrity in their midsts. Cas imagined Dean must come here often. 

And Dean was... captivating. He poured wine and told stories, and winked at the wait staff who were obviously charmed half to death by his presence. The way little Italian phrases rolled off his tongue when he order off the menu made Cas' head spin for a second. He tried not to think about what else that tongue could do. 

Cas did his best to hold his own. Did he have stories about visiting the vineyard in Italy where Coppola filmed that scene from _The Godfather II_? No. But he did have medical stories. And everyone, even Dean Winchester, loved a gross medical story. 

When the car dropped them back off at Dean's apartment, and Cas was invited inside for a nightcap, his hands were practically shaking. When Dean tugged him in by his jacket and sealed their lips together there in his very sleek, modern kitchen, Cas' mind was running wild. 

It was disarming to him, one person having the capacity to make him so self-conscience. He had always been remarkably self-assured, even in his teenage years. It shook him deeply to see himself acting this way. 

Still, all the while their tongues explored each other's mouths, Cas couldn't stop thinking to himself, _I'm kissing Dean Winchester. I'm_ kissing _Dean Winchester. I'm kissing_ Dean Winchester _._

He must have gone down the rabbit hole, forgot what he was doing, because Dean pulled away and whispered tenderly, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Cas hurriedly assured him. Dean tilted his head curiously, making Cas blush as he confessed, "It's just... a little weird, you know?"

He didn't have to explain. Dean sighed and backed off slightly, a look of resignation coating his features. "Too weird?"

"No! It's good--great, I...," Cas reached out an arm to pull him back in.

"Do you... want to stop?" Dean asked. The low tone of his voice indicated that he, at least, had no interest in putting a pause to their activities.

The idea sent a cold feeling to Cas' blood. Here he was, in Dean freaking Winchester's ritzy apartment, making out against a kitchen counter, and he was complaining. This was a once in a lifetime kind of deal, for sure. And he wasn't going to waste his one night with Dean Winchester without going all the way. 

"No," he declared defiantly. "Absolutely not."

And then he was graced with that signature, million-dollar smile. The thing that made girls spend their hard earned money to go see his movies, and stand in line for hours for just a chance to catch a glimpse in person. "Good," said Dean with an air of mischief, pulling Cas by his hand into the living room. 

They fell onto the couch together and reconnected their lips, grinding against each other in perfect, gloriously dirty harmony. Cas felt as if he were in Heaven, floating above himself watching the whole affair go down. 

He tried to remind himself to be present, be in the moment. In a rush of boldness, he moved one of his hands from its position on Dean's waist and began to ruck up the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

With the softest hiss, Dean inched his head backward, moving his lips just out of Castiel's reach. 

"Listen..."

Cas' chest froze. What had he done? It seemed like that was where the whole exchange had been headed. Had he misread the signals? Jesus Christ, was Dean going to think he was some skeezy pervert or something? 

While Cas' mind was burrowing down in a spiral of shame, Dean reached a hand down and stroked his fingers gently over Cas' cheek. "It's just..." he began, and Castiel had never been so rapt before in his entire life. 

"I think we should... wait. It's hard to find someone I actually like, so when I do, I try not to rush into anything physical. Y'know what I mean?"

Cas... wasn't sure that he did. For some reason, Dean's words weren't sinking in the way he was sure they were intended. 

"You... like me?" Cas asked, slowly.

Dean chuckled softly at that. "A world-class doctor with a face like that and and ass that doesn't quit? No, definitely not. Why would I do that?"

His eyes lit up with a mischievious, teasing glimmer. Cas just shook his head in disbelief. 

"Sorry, it's just... sometimes it's hard to look at you and just see you." Cas found himself a little surprised at the words as soon as they left his mouth, mostly because they were just a little more honest than he would be with most people. Certainly more honest than he ought to be on a first date. 

But Dean seemed to understand. He nodded, moving his lips down to Cas' neck and murmuring against his skin. "Well, then. Why don't you close your eyes, and we can try our best to fix that?"

Castiel wondered if it was wise to trust somebody who, more or less, lied for a living. But then teeth were nipping at his jawline, and that felt like a matter that demanded much more immediate attention.

Typically, Castiel didn't like to diagnose himself, but he felt that in this instance it was clear no matter how he looked at it: he had it _bad_. 


	5. Present

Whenever Dean was gone, Castiel tried his best to bury himself underneath more work than was probably necessary. It wasn't as if there was a shortage of influx at the hospital, and he was grateful for the distraction.

Nobody at work besides Hester knew anything about Castiel's personal life; a fact that was very much by his own design.

He always liked to keep work and home life separate, regardless of who he was dating. Add in the fact that his boyfriend's face was a pretty recognizable one, and it would surely mean a whole lot of unnecessary pestering for Castiel. He just wanted to get in, do his work, and go home without any trouble. 

But sometimes, it would have been nice to be able talk to someone about it. To be able to say, "I'm feeling a little down today because my boyfriend just left me for another month to go film a summer blockbuster, and I had to see his face on a twenty foot billboard on the walk here and read a headline about how he's _unlucky in love_."

Instead, when he entered the breakroom on that particular cold, sunny morning and the new intern asked him how he was doing, Cas just gave him a dry smile and said, "I'm fine."

He hung up his coat in his locker and turned around slowly. 

Aaron was a good enough kid. He'd just graduated from med school and seemed be jazzed to be placed at the hospital. He was a little high-energy for Castiel's taste, but he apparently he looked up to Cas for whatever reason. So he tried to humor him. 

"How are you, Aaron?"

Aaron lit up at the question. "I'm great. I had an amazing weekend. Went out dancing with some friends. It felt really good to let off some steam." He offered something of a wink in Castiel's direction. "How about you? Did you get up to anything fun this weekend?"

Cas sighed. A vision of three whole days spent rolling in the sheets came flooding in. Memories of Dean's touch, his kiss, his smell. An ache formed in his chest. 

"Not really," Cas replied, with a little shake of his head. "Just spent most of the time in my apartment."

He reached into the pocket of his coat to check his phone one last time. His heart gave a little leap when he found a message waiting for him.  

"Sounds boring. I bet you could use a little excitement," Aaron was saying.  

 **Dean** >>> _about to start the day. way too fuckin early. wish i was at home with you. have a good shift, babe. kick ass and save people. love you._

"Hmm," Cas hummed absent-mindedly at him. He smiled to himself and tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. "Well, I'm off on my rounds. See you, Aaron."

"Bye, Castiel!" Aaron called with a hopeful lilt, but Castiel was already out the door. 

**

Castiel actually commended himself on his ability to concentrate throughout the day. As bad as he missed Dean, he was a good doctor, and focusing on his patients was paramount. 

He had rounds first, checking on the progress that each of the patients in his care. After that he stepped in to observe a surgery for a young girl he'd seen a few days before, and then he'd been attending to car crash victim who took several hours to stabilize. 

All in all, eight hours had passed before Cas was even able to register it. He was starving. All he wanted was to go down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. 

He removed his gloves and scrubbed himself clean, wiping his hands down his face. He shuffled into the hallway, feeling a familiar exhaustion creeping into his joints. 

When he passed by the nurses' station, it wasall but abandoned, except for Aaron. He was holding a phone up to one ear and waving a hand at Castiel. 

"And who should I say is calling for him?" Cas heard him say into the phone. He waved a hand in Cas' direction, gesturing for him to come in close. The older doctor shrugged and moved walked toward the station.  

"Alright, let me just see if I can track him down," continued Aaron. Cas quirked his head, confused as to what any of this had to do with him, until Aaron looked up and met his eyes. 

"Someone name Dean is calling for you," the intern whispered, placing the phone down against the countertop. 

Castiel instantly perked up at that. "Oh," he said, wondering why Dean hadn't just called his cell phone. He'd never called the hospital directly before. 

In any case, Cas reached his hand across the surface of desk for the phone to be passed to him. Aaron held it where it was, just out of reach, a twinkle in his eye. 

"So you know him?" the younger man whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "Dean?" 

A lump formed in Cas' throat. Was Aaron saying he knew who Dean was? That he could recognize his voice? Maybe he was a fan, maybe he stayed up to watch every interview and he instantly knew that this was _the_ Dean on the other end of the line. That would be a worst case scenario. Aaron had a big mouth, he'd probably tell everyone in the hospital and then Cas would never have a moment of peace at work again... 

While the panic set in and made his fingers feel numb, Cas sucked in a breath of air. He looked up at Aaron, who was patiently waiting for a response from him. Face clear, with just a hint of mischief. 

Of course he didn't know. That would be absurd. There were maybe a thousand people named Dean in the New York City area right this minute. For Aaron to make the connection.... it bordered on impossible. 

Castiel was being paranoid. 

He cleared his throat and nodded, reaching once again for the receiver. "Yes," he stated simply. 

But the phone still hovered just beyond his finger tips. Aaron's own fingers curled more tightly around it as a cheshire cat grin spread across his face. "And Dean is....?"

Having no more patience for this little game, Cas sighed in exasperation. "He's my boyfriend. Okay?"

A flicker moved over Aaron's features, as if his whole face went dark for half a second. Then he resumed his smile and put the phone up to his ear. "Oh my. Castiel never mentioned having a boyfriend. You sure are one lucky dog, Dean. I hope you know that."

Then he handed the phone over to Cas and stood from his chair, sauntering  down the hall in a direction Cas didn't bother to follow. Instead, he slumped his shoulders in momentarily relaxation and placed the phone against his head. "Hey, babe. Sorry, today has been such a mess already. What's going on? Why didn't you call my cell?"

"I did. It's dead," Dean spoke quickly as if he wanted to rush through that thought and get to his point. "Who the hell was that?"

"Who? Aaron?" Cas answered, unsure why that mattered at all. 

Dean scoffed in a way that was normally reserved for the beginning of arguments. Cas felt his body tense up immediately. "Yeah. Aaron. Do you make a habit out of hiding our relationship at work?"

Cas almost wanted to laugh out loud, but he didn't. The idea was so absurd. 

"Aaron is new. And anyway, you know me, Dean. I keep like to keep a hard line between work and home."

A grunt. "Well, isn't that convenient?"

Cas sighed heavily. "Dean, this is hardly news to you. We've had this discussion several times. I don't know why you're getting upset right now."

"I am not _upset_. I just didn't know before that you were working with guys who have the hots for you."

"Hots for me? What are you talking about?"

"Ha." Dean sent a dry laugh over the line. "You're kidding."

"I'm not?" Cas answered honestly. He sent a furtive glance at his surroundings in the hallway. This was so embarassing. Exactly the reason he felt the need to keep a divide between his two worlds. 

"Aaron obviously has a big, fat crush on you. I talked to him for two minutes and I knew."

Castiel paused. That couldn't be true. Dean was confused. He was far away and pumped up on testosterone, and he was mistaking admiration for romantic feelings. He was just making excuses to be jealous. 

"Oh," Dean went on. "And he just _happened_ to believe you were single, and you weren't about to correct him."

"Dean," Cas said at last. It was biting, firm, but he managed to keep his voice calm.  He was not about to get into a screaming match at the nurses' station. "I am not going to have this... conversation right now. We can talk about this tonight." He cleared his throat, straightened his scrubs out on his chest. "Now, why did you call?"

Cas assumed it was important if he chose to call the hospital instead of waiting for Cas to get out of work. 

A long pause sat on the other end of the line. He could picture Dean, huffing in his trailer, arms crossed over his chest. He would stay angry just to spite Cas. Like he always did. 

"Dean?" Castiel repeated after a moment. 

"I don't want to tell you anymore." 

Castiel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Now was not the time. If he could avoid an arugment, he was going to do everything in his power to do so. "Dean, please. Don't be like that. Please just tell me what's going on."

"No, it was good news and I was in a good mood but now I'm pissed and I don't want to waste it." 

Castiel's heart gave a funny flicker inside his chest. It was already hard enough to miss Dean every day. Fighting while he was away just added a peculiar, troubling layer to that, and it made it hard to Castiel to think about anything else. 

He sighed once more into the phone. "Can I call you tonight when I'm home and we can talk? I really want to hear your news."

On the other end, Dean seemed to be mulling over his options. How long he wanted to milk his needless sulking. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

"Okay," Cas said, and he already felt a twenty pound weight lifted from his chest. "Then, in that case, I am going to go shove a hamburger into my face and continue saving people. I'm _starving_."

At that, the sound of a begrudging chuckle came from Dean. Castiel managed to pull his lips into something of a smile, feeling that the worst had been avoided. 

He made his voice low, so that no passersby would be privy to his most private confessions. "I love you," he muttered, with a little more feeling that normal. "And I miss you."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Dean. "You too."

Cas hung up the phone quickly, before any other words could be exchanged. A  thought passed through his mind about caller IDs and phone numbers, if anyone could track Dean down for a momentary slip in judgement. 

Then, chiding himself again for needless paranoia, he headed down towards the cafeteria to shove a hamburger into his face. 


	6. Past

One day, when Castiel was enjoying a cup of mediocre coffee in the break room at work, something was thrown onto the table in front of him, making him jump as it landed with a dull thud.

"When am I going to see your face in the pages of _US Weekly_ , hm?" Hester demanded to know. Cas returned to sipping his coffee leisurely, pointedly refusing to spare a glance up to look at his boss. Still she stood, arms crossed, looming over him.

It had been a few months since his first date with the esteemed Mr. Winchester. Dean was travelling back and forth between LA and New York all the time now. But he made sure whenever he was on the East Coast to make ample time for Cas. 

The term "boyfriend" was fresh, but it had been dropped a few times.

Cas set his mug down on the table and pushed the magazine away. 

"Never, if I have my say about it," he answered her at last. He capped the sentiment with a dry laugh to show just how little amusement he took from the idea. 

It wasn't as if Cas was unaware of the paparazzi that were newly present in his life. He was _constantly_ aware of them: just outside Dean's building, trailing down the street behind them. More like they were unaware of him. 

It was like this: there were systems in place. There were backdoors that were used and streets that were avoided. The two of them-- he and Dean, that is--hadn't explicited discussed the security precautions, but it made sense. Castiel didn't need his life to be anymore complicated that it already was. 

And besides, Dean wasn't exactly "out" in most respects of the word. When people looked at him-- this gorgeous, chiseled, greek god-like figure of a human-- the assumption was that he would only have the most beautiful women on his arm. 

And Cas was fine with that. More than fine with it. It meant that if there was some lanky, bed-headed man trailing behind Dean on the streets, the paps didn't give him a second glance. 

Then he could keep everything more private. He could tuck himself up in Dean's apartment and hold him in close, and feel safe in the fact that as long as this thing was just between them, they could keep it totally pure. 

So, no. Cas didn't relish the prospect of being captured on camera quite the way Hester wanted him to. 

"Well, that's boring," she frowned, pulling out the chair beside Cas and taking a seat. "If I were dating America's Boyfriend, I'd want to get a little something out of it."

"Would you be quiet?" Cas hissed. The reference was vague, but he always felt he could never be too careful. 

 "I'm sorry," she murmured defensively. "You two are just so smitten, I thought you'd want to show each other off evedy chance you got."

Something inside Castiel bristled at that. Of course they wanted that. They cared about each other. They cared about each other _a lot_. 

"We're not children," he told her plaintively, "we don't need to shout our affections from the rooftops in order for them to be valid."

Hester only hummed in response, and turned away to read her magazine. She narrated a few stories out loud for Castiel's benefit, but it was much harder for him to find anything amusing in them now. 

Something from that conversation lingered in his brain throughout the day, though Cas couldn't point out which part in paricular disturbed him. At the end of the day he grabbed his backpack and shuffled off to the subway, too lost in thought to remember where he was going. He'd accidentally gotten on the uptown train, towards his own apartment. He had to get off at a midtown stop and change directions. 

He always felt a little funny walking into Dean's building in scrubs. The doormen knew him, of course, gave him a tiny smile when he walked by. But still, it felt like someone might stop him. Pull him to the side and question him, just who was he and what right did he have to be in this luxurious apartment complex? 

He walked on to the elevator and shrugged his shoulders, trying to unload his mind.

When he arrived on the 20th floor, he beelined straight for Dean's door. He turned the handle and stepped into the foyer. The rich scent of herbs wafted in, filling the apartment. 

"Babe? Is that you?"

Cas felt his mouth was too dry to answer, so instead he just dropped his bag and headed straight into the kitchen. 

Dean was standing at the stove, a wooden spoon in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He was standing command over a pot that practically bubbled over with tomato tomato sauce. He glanced over his shoulder as Cas walked into the room, and his eyes went all alight at the sight of him. 

"C'mere and try my sauce," he welcomed, waving Cas over toward the stove. 

Cas did as he was told, a teasing little smile on his lips as he moved. "Don't you celebrities have someone to do this for you? A personal chef? Gordon Ramsay?"

The corner of Dean's mouth curled up at that. He reached out and tugged Castiel in toward him. "You're funny." 

"I try."

Dean then dipped his wooden spoon down into the pot and brought it up, blowing on the steaming contents. When it had cooled slightly, he held it up for Cas to taste. 

A pink, little tongue popped out of Castiel's mouth to lick along the surface of the spoon. He pretended not to follow Dean's eyes as they tracked the movement.

"Mmmm," he moaned loudly. "That's delicious."

Without warning, Dean dropped the spoon and pulled Castiel tight against him, sealing their lips together forcefully. He licked at the inside of Castiel's mouth and pressed their hips against one another. 

"Talk about delicious," he murmured as he pulled away, nipping playfully at Cas' bottom lip. Cas only hummed with pleasure, feeling every stress and worry melting out of his body. 

Dean made a few little bites tracing along his jawline. "You know you can't come over here in these doctor clothes. You know it drives me crazy."

Cas moaned as Dean moved onto mouthing at his neck. "Well, then. I'd better change."

Dean whined when Castiel moved his head away, only slightly soothed by the kiss dotted softly on his cheek. Cas pulled himself out of Dean's grasp and moved down the hall toward the guest bedroom where the drawer with his clothing was stored. 

The fact that he had his own drawer in Dean's apartment served as something of a constant reality check. He, Castiel Novak, who could barely snag a date all through his college years, had his own drawer full of clothing in the apartment of Dean Winchester, a perpetual contender for Most Eligible Bachelor in America.

Life was weird, Castiel thought to himself as he stripped off his scrubs and threw on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt from med school. 

He wandered back into the kitchen a few minutes later, feeling refreshed and significantly more comfortable, to find that the table was set and Dean had laid out a plate of food at his seat. He sat down and immediately began to dig in. 

"This really is wonderful," he commented to Dean as the latter walked over and poured a generous glass of red wine. "You didn't have to cook, you know. You're spoiling me." He felt the way his cheeks tinged with pink as he confessed the last part 

Dean took his seat and smiled in a way that lit up his whole face. He loved to make Castiel blush. "I don't always get to see you after you work. It's nice to be able to pamper you a little, you know? Do normal things."

Cas couldn't have agreed more. He wished they could have more days like this. That every day could be like this. 

He reached for his glass of wine and took a long swig. 

"And besides," Dean continued, swirling pasta around his fork and raising it to his mouth. "I have... an invitation I'd like to discuss with you."

Cas chose not to speak, only raising his eyebrows at Dean over the table. 'An invitation'. That sounded purposefully vague. He didn't want to waste energy guessing as to what Dean meant. 

Dean seemed to take the hint. He took another bite of his food, and followed it with a sip of wine, before he let it out. 

"I've got a premiere in two weeks, here in New York," he said. 

Cas blinked at him curiously. Dean nodded, shifted in his chair, and finished the thought. "I wanted to know if you would want to come with me. As my date. If that's something that would interest you."

The last part was tacked on quickly, nervously, and Cas imagined it probably had something to do with the reaction on his face. Or rather, the lack of one. 

"You want me to make a public appearance. As your boyfriend."

"Basically, yes." 

Castiel paused, chewing absent mindedly on the inside of his cheek. "What does Crowley have to say about this?"

Castiel had a good idea what Dean's manager would have to say about this. Cas had met the man once or twice in passing, both of them being at the apartment at the same time, or something like that. On one of those occasions, he had made a comment to Cas, something along the lines of 'had he ever thought to look for someone more in his league?'

The comment (and Crowley) only slighty irked him, so he'd never mentioned the incident to Dean. He didn't want to cause any ruffles. But still, he couldn't imagine Dean had his manager's full support on this decision. 

"Screw Crowley. He's not the one I care about. I care about you and I don't want to hide it."

"I don't think of it as hiding," replied Cas, thoughtfully, picking up his fork and resuming his dinner. "It's more a strategic avoidance."

"Well," Dean huffed. "I don't want to 'strategically avoid' you."

Cas began to feel uneasy. His conversation with Hester floated into his mind. He didn't know what Dean wanted him to say, what was the right answer here. 

"Can I be honest?" he asked, after an awkward pause. 

Dean nodded. 

Cas sighed loudly. "This is how I see it: if I step out onto that red carpet with you, it's not just a one-night deal. My whole life will change. They'll find my apartment, and every time I leave my house in my ugly scrubs, I'll have to be nervous that I'll end up in the papers." Dean chuckled softly there, but Cas didn't think it was all too funny. "And maybe they'll find out where I work, and then they try to get to me there and I can't provide quality care to my patients anymore because I'm trying to keep photographers at bay."

Now Dean grew more serious. He sat up straight, keeping his eyes locked on Cas, who continued on. 

"And our nights out," he said, "It's already bad enough as it is trying to go out. I mean, it's not like we can just pop out for tacos, you know? It would only get worse if they knew I was your boyfriend."

He leaned back in his chair to allow Dean a chance to respond. A small silence passed between them. 

"You're right," Dean muttered sullenly, reaching for his wine again. "You're totally right."

He head hung low. He was a picture of dissapointment. 

Cas leaned across the table to wrap his hand around Dean's. He gave a gentle squeeze. "But I appreciate the offer. It really is very sweet."

Dean raised his glass of wine to his lips and drained it in a matter of three gulps. Cas pulled his hand back into himself and shifted uncomfortably. 

"If I were a different person..." he offered, "if fame was something that I wanted to pursue..."

Dean shook his head. "No. Stop. I like that you're not that person. I like that you're you."

That pleased Castiel endlessly to hear. He let a small smile slip across his face, but inside he was beaming. 

"But..." 

Cas raised his head when Dean began to speak again.

"It doesn't bother you when they put me on the cover of a magazine with a different woman every week?" Dean was asking. It sounded earnest, like a confession. Cas wondered how long the idea had been bothering him. 

He just shrugged his shoulders, tried to make his answer seem light and breezy. "Not really. It all just seems silly to me. I know where we stand."

Dean set down his glass and allowed his shoulders to relax marginally. He laughed darkly. "Yeah. And Crowley is always saying how great those stupid rumors are for PR."

"See?" Cas smiled encouragingly. He reached out for Dean's hand once more. He stroked his thumb slowly over the soft skin there. "It's really the best thing for everyone. I can stay holed up here in this cave forever."

Dean laughed softly, and it sounded like warm music in Castiel's chest. "Just as long as you know that I love you. That's all that matters." 

Cas, whose eyes had dropped back down to the plate in front of his, remained still. A warm smile played on his lips as he tried to avoid meeting Dean's eyes. He could feel them on him, searching, scanning him from fingertip to hairline. 

Castiel could barely hold back a delighted giggle when he answered, "Yeah?" 

"Yeah," Dean exhaled nervously. 

Castiel raised his eyes at last and laid down his fork. His lips twitched as he felt his heart skip a few beats. "Well, I love you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dean rose from his seat quickly and moved around the table. His hands went to Cas' face, wrapping around them and pulling him to his feet and into a crushing embrace.

It was funny, right then, watching Dean be so nervous. It was... weird. It was something Cas had seen him do on movies before, but never in their time together. 

"I hope that wasn't acting just then," Cas whispered, half-joking, against his lips. 

Dean peppered him with soft little kisses. "Not with you," he promised tenderly. "Never with you."

"Good," Cas muttered in between pecks. "I didn't think you were that good anyway."

That earned him a smack on the ass that made him yelp in a mix of surprise and pleasure. Dean's eyes lit up gleefully at the noise. Another smack, and the noise changed. It became low, dark, soulful. Dean kissed him again, this time long and deep. When they parted, the air was thick and hot with breath. 

Dean took Castiel's hand in his and dragged him toward the bedroom. Dinner, and their conversation, was left on the table. 

This was when it felt right, Castiel thought as he slipped the soft material of his pants down his thighs. When it was just them, just the two of them, here in the sancitity of Dean's apartment. 

The idea of shattering that, of opening every aspect of them up to public opinion... it nearly broke his heart.


	7. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only two or three more chapters left! Typically, I'd be sad but honestly with story I only feel excited to see where it will go. Thanks for all your aupport and feedback! It's so nice to know that other people are as attached to my characters as I am xoxox

"Hey, you okay, Cas?"

Castiel jerked his head up. He blushed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Apparently he wasn't as subtle as he'd thought. 

"Yeah, I'm great," he smiled weakly. "I'm having a blast."

Charlie leaned over and laid a compassionate hand on his leg. "I'm sorry Dean's not here."

He shrugged his shoulders casually, as if the fact weren't weighing down his evening. 

"But he has entrusted me with the task of ensuring your happiness this evening," she proclaimed with confidence. "So, what do we say? Another drink?"

She raised her hand and slapped it down more firmly on his leg. The gesture had something of a Viking feel to it. Cas could hardly do anything other than smile and answer meekly, "Yes, please." 

"Anything for the birthday boy," she smiled in return, standing up from her seat and heading over towards the bar. 

Cas followed her with his eyes, feeling something of a world apart. She walked up to where Jo and Victor were standing, arms wrapped around each other, heads thrown back in laughter. 

Days spent far apart from Dean always wore on his heart, but special occasions were even more difficult. He resented Dean's work, resented the press tour that was taking him away from Cas on a day that was for all intents and purposes _his_. He wished for just a day that they could exist as a normal couple. Like Jo and Victor, who lived every day in the cool confidence that their partner would be home waiting for them at the end of it all. 

Of course, after all that resentment and self-pity, he turned on himself. He got angry at himself for souring Dean's successes, for being ungrateful for the fact that he did get to be with Dean at all. The whole roller coaster of emotion left him reeling. If there was any way to avoid this whole sinkhole of thought, Cas would give anything to do so. But as far as he'd seen in the last three years, he was always going to end up back in the same spot.  

But tonight he wouldn't allow any of that. His friends had taken him out to keep his spirits up, and damned if he wasn't going to do that for them. The three of them came ambling their way over from the bar and Cas sat himself up straight at attention. 

"What a jerk," Jo commented without context. "Being in Paris on your birthday."

"In all fairness, he did invite me to come along," Cas defended. "It's not his fault that the hospital couldn't spare me." 

In complete honesty, a small part of him had been holding out hope that Dean would swoop in at the last minute and come home to spend the weekend with him. But, the selfie he'd sent this morning in front of the eiffel tower didn't lend much hope to that. 

 _Spirits up, Cas._   _Not his fault. Have fun._

"And you two did have that trip to London a few months ago," Charlie reminded gently. Cas nodded in agreement at her point, while Jo rolled her eyes dramatically and sipped on her beer. 

Castiel went back in his mind to that week in London. Dean had been finishing up a project there and asked Cas to come visit after he was all done. A dreamy sensation came over him as he remembered the hotel room where they'd stayed, wrapped up in the sheet for days on end. He'd meant to do more sight-seeing, he really had. But then Dean had been there and he'd missed him so much and he just wouldn't stop whispering seductive things...

"All right, come on back, Romeo," Victor heckled, elbowing gently into Cas' side. Cas' face turned a deep shade of burgundy as dropped the memory. He ducked his head to hide it from his friends. 

"Hey, why don't we take a picture?" Jo stood up from the table and moved to flank Castiel. "We'll send it to Dean and make him crazy with jealousy." 

Cas cleared his throat. "We really don't have to keep talking about Dean. I do have other things going on in my life, you know."

"This is the last thing," Jo said, pulling her iPhone from her pocket. "Promise." 

Victor took a place next to her and pulked Cas in to the both of them, while Charlie took her place on the other side. "Then you can tell us about doctor stuff. Or your cat, I dunno. Whatever you want, man."

"Oh, tell us about Maeve!" Charlie yelled. Cas rolled his eyes, pretending to find all their doting quite annoying (even though he did have a picture of Maeve wearing a pair of designer sunglasses Dean had gotten in a 'swag bag' that he was looking forward to sharing with Charlie).  

He felt quite grateful for these three right now. They were friends of Dean's originally, ones he'd held onto from the years before his career really took off. But they'd taken Cas in as one of their own without even a second thought. Now, they felt something like a surrogate family. It did him worlds of good to have a group like that when so much of his time would otherwise be spent alone. 

Jo, Charlie and Victor crowded in tight around him and pointed the camera at them. Castiel mustered up his best, happiest smile for Dean. The flash went off and Jo immediately showed it to Cas for approval. He nodded quickly and resumed drinking his cocktail. 

"I'll send it right now," said Jo. 

Cas snorted. "It's three in the morning in France." 

"Hm," she hummed. "Maybe still." 

 _Yes,_ Cas relunctantly allowed himself to think. _Maybe still_.

"Anyway..." Victor interrupted, wrapping his arm coolly around the birthday boy's shoulders. "Shots anyone?"

**

Dean didn't call that night, of course, just as Castiel didn't expect him too. He did, however, call early the next morning. Bright and early. 

"You had better stop trying to make me so jealous," he warned playfully. 

"You had better stop making it so easy." Castiel answered, voice heavy with sleep. He cracked one eye open and spared a glance over at his alarm clock. "And stop calling me at 6 am when I'm hungover."

"What?" Dean questioned. "You, hungover? I'm apalled."

"You're not funny," Cas whined, rolling over onto his stomach. He blew out a breath of air. "How's the tour?" 

"It's alright. I mean, it's great. We're off to Munich today." 

Cas felt that odd familiar feeling wash over him. Slightly jealous, slightly needy, slightly angry. "I better go now," he announced suddenly. "I have to get some more sleep before I... I do some things."

"Oh," Dean started, sounding surprised. "Well, alright then. I guess I'll talk to you later." 

"Mhmm," Cas hummed and went to hung up the phone, barely catching Dean's half-whispered _I love you_ coming through the line. 

He didn't like leaving Dean in a lurch like that. But it just felt difficult this morning. Today, of all days, he just couldn't bring himself to pretend to be okay with the thing that took Dean away. He didn't want to fake it. He didn't have the energy. 

But he also didn't want to hurt Dean. It was such a delicate balance to strike.

Cas rolled back over and told himself to relax. Like many times before, this feeling would pass. He could call Dean back later, or tomorrow, and apologize for being so abrupt. 

And, maybe, just a small, tiny miniscule part of him thought: if he feels alone or abaondoned right now... well, maybe that's fair.  

The feeling did leave him, more or less. When his hangover faded and he moved further away from his birthday, the rotten feelings that sat in his stomach began to dissipate. He called Dean a few days later, really sat down and listened to him talk all about Europe and how things were going. 

It was only a week later that things really took a turn. 

By now, Dean was in London again, on the last leg of the tour before he got to head on home. Only a few more days, and then he'd be home again and all his time would be reserved for Castiel. 

Cas wasn't sure what project Dean had lined up next, but he was hoping that there would be a good chunk of R&R before he had to go back to work. 

He himself was back to work now as well. Hester had granted him a few days off following his birthday (she knew that recovering from a night out wasn't as easy as it had been when he was twenty-one), but now he was back on his first eighteen-hour in a while. 

He got to the hospital a little early, hoping to grab some lunch from the cafeteria. After he'd eaten, he made his way to the break room. He figured he had just enough time to make a cup of coffee and maybe chat with Dean for a minute if the other man could spare it. 

When he entered the breakroom, only Aaron was in there. He was seated at the round table in the center of the room, reading some glossy celebrity magazine. He looked up over the top of it and his face lit up at the view. 

"Castiel!" He exclaimed. "I mean, Dr. Novak. It's been a little while. Where have you been?"

"Recovering." Castiel answered with a small laugh. When Aaron gave him a sympathetic look, he expounded. "It was my birthday."

"Oh, well happy b-day," smiled Aaron amiably. He leaned forward in his chair. "What did you do to celebrate? Something romantic with the boyfriend?"

He had tossed the magazine down onto the table, where it fell open to a page filled with small pictures of celebrity couplings. One in particular caught Cas' eye. 

"He was out of town," Castiel muttered in reponse, his fingers tracing smoothly over the page.

_Dean and Lisa: Ooh La La!_

Castiel snorted derisively. He truly had so much contempt for these stupid rags. The accompanying picture showed Dean and another actor, Lisa Braeden, seated together at a small table. 

Aaron sighed dreamily, his eyes watching Castiel's fingers closely. "Dean Winchester. What a hunk."

"Hmm," said Castiel, his eyes concentrated on the page. 

_Is it amour again for these two actors? Photographers caught the two sharing an intimate candlelit dinner in Paris last Saturday night, and a source close to the pair tells us it was getting steamy. According to them, these two lovebirds wined and dined late into the evening. Could the rumors be true, and old flames have been rekindled in the city of love?_

Castiel went stalk straight as his eyes glances over the page. Dean. Lisa. Paris. Saturday. 

Before he had realized what he was doing, Castiel ripped his phone out of his pocket and tore down the hall. 

"Castiel?" Aaron shouted after him. "Are you okay?"

Cas ignored him. He found the door to the on-call room and slammed it behind him. He hit speed dial on his phone and began to pace the room, caught somewhere between panicked and seething. 

Dean picked up on the third ring. "Hello, Dr. Sexy," he greeted in his most alluring voice. 

"What were you doing on the night of my birthday?" Cas shot back without missing a beat. 

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Just answer the question." Cas could feel himself becoming the type of person he'd always feared becoming. The type who was crazy with jealousy, always making wild accusations. Or else the type who was so stupid they couldn't see when they were being lied to and deceived. Repeatedly. 

That was Dean's job, after all. Pretending. Deceiving. 

"I was in Paris," Dean said calmly, like he was trying to de-escalate the situation. "I was working. I sent you a picture, remember? And you sent me one."

"Then why did I just see a picture of you eating dinner with Lisa Braeden last Saturday? Last Saturday, my birthday."

Dean paused for a moment. "Since when do you read gossip magazines?"

Cas was on the verge of tears. No matter which way he looked at it he felt insane-- and it was not what he needed before a long shift at work. He sucked in a deep breath of air in an attempt to push off any emotional explosions.

"Dean," he exhaled through his teeth. 

Dean sighed loudly over the phone. "Cas, we have talked about this. We talked about this a long time ago. There's always gonna be paparazzi and there's always gonna be stories--"

"But they're not always going to be stories about you sharing an intimate meal with your ex-girlfriend on my birthday." 

All of Cas' body felt strained. His heart seemed like it was beating right against his chestplate, primed to burst right out of his chest.  

"It was a work dinner."

"A romantic, candlelit work dinner," Cas bit back. 

"It's Paris, Cas, everywhere is candlelit." Dean had progressed into snide remarks now, which didn't bode well for the impending argument. "What exactly are you getting at here?"

"I am not getting at anything. I just don't know how you failed to mention to me that you were going to spend the whole evening with Lisa."

"What, am I supposed to run every work meeting I have by you? Send you a copy of my calendar?"

Cas wondered if maybe Dean was realizing that he was wrong. He tended to grow more agitated when he knew that he was on the losing side of an argument. It was one of his least attractive qualities. 

Cas wished the magazines would publish that.

"You were the one who told me she still had feelings for you," Cas told him.

Deam scoffed. "That was years ago, Cas. And that doesn't matter anyway because I would never do anything about it because I have a boyfriend. Because I am with you."

Castiel let a long breath escape from him. He didn't really think anything had happened between Dean and Lisa. That wasn't why he was mad. It was--

"Unless you don't trust me," added Dean at the last minute. 

"Dean, this is not about trust it's--"

"Bullshit it's not, you're acting like there's something going on with Lisa, which there fucking isn't."

Or else he was lying. He was becoming flagrant to cover up that he was concealing the truth. 

Cas tried to think back to a time, any time, when Dean had lied to him. No examples came to mind. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He must have lied about something in the past three years; everyone did, even to the people they loved the most. Was he just so good at it that it was impossible for Cas to discern?

Dean was still ranting over the phone. "Yet you're the one going to work day after day in a place where the whole fucking staff wants to bang you." 

Cas rolled his eyes so far into his hairline is started to give him a headache. "Is this still about Aaron? Jesus, Dean--" 

"Yeah, Aaron, that one from the phone. And the other one. The British one who tried to grope you at the Christmas party."

Cas racked his memory, trying to recall the incident Dean was talking about. Finally, it clicked. "Balthazar?" 

Dean grunted loudly. Cas took that as an affirmative response and moved on. "Dean, this isn't about Balthazar, or Aaron. It's not even about Lisa. It's--"

"Oh yeah? If it's not about that then what the fuck are we doing right now?"

"If you'd just let me--"

"Because honestly, Cas, you can question me and my dedication all you want. But you're the one who has so much downtime, so much time alone, and how can I really know what you're doing when I'm not there?"

Cas felt his entire body turn to ice right then. From his heart out to every last extremity. Like his arteries were pumping out cold liquid in place of blood. 

"Excuse me?" He said after a long pause. The pounding of his heart was creating a deafening noise in his ears. 

Dean said nothing in response. Now, Cas knew that he must recognize how hurtful he was being. How cruel his accusation was. 

But Cas wasn't going to let him get away with that. 

"I am alone all the time," he spoke in clear, ennuciated words. He wanted everything he said in ring in Dean's brain over and over like a record until the next time they were face to face, "because you force me to be that way. Because your career, which I have always supported, demands that I be. If you for one second think that I enjoy it this way, then you are high off your ass, Dean Winchester."

He didn't care if anyone heard him. He had no presence of mind to be worries about anything like that in that moment.

"On my birthday, _your_ friends took me out to make up for the fact that you weren't here, and I still couldn't make myself enjoy it. All I wanted was you. I sat around all day waiting for you to call. Hoping that you would swoop in at the last minute and come here to be with me." He laughed sardonically. "I can't believe I was so stupid. That I thought you would ever prioritize me."

A beat went by while Cas listened to his heart calm inside his chest. 

"Cas," Dean said, and suddenly he sounded so compassionate. 

"Go fuck yourself, Dean," Cas said, and hung up his phone without a second thought. He placed the phone in his pocket and returned to the breakroom. 

Aaron sat at the table, watching Cas as he tracked across the room. He seemed poised to ask something, but Castiel made himself look s closed off as possible as he shoved his phone into his locker and closed it loudly. 

In all his years as a doctor, he'd never been so excited for an eighteen-hour shift. Eighteen full hours that he didn't have to waste thinking about Dean Winchester. 


	8. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry sorry sorry that I take so long to update! Life's been busy which is good, but leaves little time for creative ventures. Please let me know what you think. Only two chapters to go! xx

It took a while of convincing, some serious prodding and poking; but after what he felt was a reasonable amount of fuss, Cas finally agreed to move in with Dean. 

It was a hard decision for him to come to. The day he closed the door to his uptown apartment for the last time, it felt as if he were losing a valued companion. 

Of course it only made sense, as Dean had told him on several occasions. And he was right, Cas knew. Dean's was closer to the hospital, it was so much larger and nicer and had real water pressure. Any normal, sane person would jump at the chance to live here. 

But Cas was nothing if not stubborn. His apartment, small and dingy though it was, was his last semblance of maintaining his independence. Of pretending that he wasn't already recklessly head-over-heels for this tall, toned, green-eyed god of a man. That he'd somehow come out unscathed if this all fell away suddenly and without warning.

Anyway, he'd lived in that place since he'd come to New York, so many years ago now. It was ingrained into the fabric of his life. 

At work, Hester was constantly reminding Castiel that he was already the luckiest son of a bitch in the five boroughs just to have Dean in his life. She was flabbergasted (her own words) at how he wasn't _leaping_  to tie that down at every given opportunity. 

Cas understood her point, but he didn't see it quite that way himself. They were lucky to have each other, he thought. Dean never wasted a breath to tell Cas how much he agreed. 

"What's a hot doctor like you doing with a scrub like me?" He'd whisper every so often, in a low, sultry tone, hands coming to wrap tightly around Cas' middle. Cas knew he was being flattered, but, well. Dean certainly could sell it, so he never complained too much. 

All in all, despite Cas' trepidations, living together really was a lovely adjustment for them. They were still very much in the throes of their honeymoon phase. They could barely keep their hands off each other when they were in the same room, much to the chagrin of the rest of the friend group. As far as the two of them were concerned, every extra second spent together made all the difference in the world.

No longer did any time need to be wasted apart when Dean was back in New York. Cas needn't scramble back to his apartment to grab a change of clothes or feed his cat. It was all here for him. Here, in this gorgeous apartment with the large windows and the gourmet kitchen and a view of the city that was to die for. Not to mention the attractive choice of roommate.

Most days, Cas felt happier than he could remember feeling in a long time. Maeve, too, seemed to be taking quite well to the adjustment. She had found a spot in the windowsill that she'd claimed as her own. Ceremoniously, by vomiting there. 

(Cas had snapped a cheeky photo of Dean cleaning up the mess, snickering to himself as he did. A photo of Dean Winchester cleaning up cat vomit. That was something Cas would pay to see in the pages of _People._ )

So, more or less, it was a little slice of domestic bliss. Cas' first time with that. He tried to just enjoy it every day, taking it all as it came. "Just going with the flow," Dean smiled at him at least once a week. 

However, there was one caveat to their new situation that gave him a bit of discomfort. 

"I wish you'd let me help with the rent," he mumbled begrudgingly. They were sitting at the table together, eating takeout from a place just down the street, Dean's legs wound up between his. 

Dean scooped up a helping of noodles with his chopsticks. Expertly, just like everything else he did. "You have enough to worry about with your school loans," he replied casually. "...unless you'd let me pay those off." 

"No. Absolutely not," Cas barked out before he could even think about how it sounded. The idea made blood rush to his face. 

He didn't want to owe anyone like that. Not his parents. Certainly not his boyfriend. 

He raised his eyes just in time to catch Dean peering at him curiously. He blushed, embarrassed by the outburst, and turned back to his food. "I just... it's something I want to be able to say I did for myself." 

He became deeply focused on his general tso's chicken, fumbling to grab a piece between his chopsticks.  He felt a hand gently reach out and place itself on his arm. 

"It's not like that, Cas," Dean said. His voice had dropped low, and Cas felt smoothed by it almost immediately. It was amazing how Dean had that effect on him.

Castiel lowered his utensils, slowly. Dean took it as an implicit signal to keep talking. "It's not a handout. Like I don't think you could do it yourself. It's more..." he hummed a bit to himself here, trying to find the right wording, "I think of it like a donation. The world is a better place with someone like you out there, taking care of people. I'd like to throw some money at that, to make sure it stays a better place."

At that, Cas looked up. Dean was staring back, a little sheepish; but moreover, he wore a look of sincerity. Cas knew his words were genuine, and he felt a surge of emotion at hearing them out loud.

He leaned over the table and gave Dean a smacking kiss right on the lips. Dean obliged, smiling into the sudden embrace.

Cas sank back into his seat and let a small smile pass over his features. "Thank you," he said at last. He reached out and took Dean's hand into his own. "The offer is really very kind. But I'll keep paying for my loans myself."

Dean's grin spread wider. "Alright. And I'll keep paying the rent."

Cas sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he replied, sounding distraught, but the smile on his face remained. 

Under the table, Dean tapped his toes against Cas' shin playfully. "Pass the soy sauce, would ya?" Cas did, and they returned to their dinner as if nothing had happened. Dean running his foot up and down Cas' calf, Cas smiling softly to himself at the feeling, and Maeve mewling at them agitatedly from her spot in the window.

\--

But, obviously, honeymoon phases don't last forever. Especially not when on half of your happy couple is darting off to the other side of the country every few weeks. 

He could so fiercely remember the first real argument that they had. 

Dean had missed an important engagement. An anniversary maybe, or a holiday. Cas' family had been in town to visit, and the plan had been for them to meet Dean for the first time.

Cas was nervous for the meeting. His parents were... well, they were like him. A little peculiar. Not exactly social butterflies. Dean, he was certain, would charm the pants off of them in any case. But there was still no telling how the two sides of his life would mesh. 

By the time Dean came back to town, Cas' parents had already flown back home. Cas was mortified. He'd made such a big deal of the whole thing, implored to his family how imporant this occasion was. And Dean couldn't be bothered to even be there in time. 

He rolled in to the apartment with a half-hearted apology and an excuse about being overworked. This time, Castiel wasn't having it. 

They fought and screamed at each other for nearly an hour. Dean got so heated that he punched a wall. When silence finally elapsed, Cas took leave onto the balcony. 

It was late summer, and the night air still held a ribbon of warmth within it. Cas wished that it had a but of a bite to it, a little cold. That would have felt more appropriate; more in line with his own emotions right then, to feel his teeth chattering and his skin prickling with cold, and he could blame it on Dean for making him come out here. Pile one more thing on his list of grievances against his boyfriend. 

He leaned his body against the railing, his fingers gripping tightly at its edges. 

 _Breathe_ , he tried to remind himself. He was worked up, sure, but there was no reason to get himself up into a fit. If he took in air, he would calm down, and then he could try and discern what happened next. 

He didn't plan to spend the rest of his life out there on the balcony, after all. 

The more he breathed deeply, the more he felt the boiling in his blood cool down to a simmer. What _would_ happen next? He found himself wondering. Who would apologize first? Surely one of them needed to, and he didn't plan for it to be him. 

They'd never argued before, he and Dean. Tonight, he saw a side of Dean that was entirely new, and vice versa. It wasn't particulary attractive side, either. What did this mean for them? What if... were they going to break up? 

Something tightened in Castiel's chest. He felt all kinds of emotions right then, and confused was high on the list. But he knew he didn't want that. He didn't want to lose Dean. Didn't want someone else to have him. 

That didn't mean he wasn't still angry, but. This was something couples did, right? It was healthy to fight. It was normal. 

Was he allowed to do that? To be mad-- so mad he could barely see straight-- and still want Dean all for himself? Cas wasn't sure. He'd never been here before. Never been so entangled with another human like this. 

He had no barometer for what this was supposed to feel like. All he knew was that it didn't feel good. The fear of something even worse loomed over him like a storm cloud, obscuring his anger more and more by the second. 

He started to think about the things Hester said to him. Maybe he should be more grateful for Dean. Or at least, maybe he should be better at showing it. Maybe he should consider what it was all worth, getting to be with this man. Lord knows he was out of his league with this one. 

On an average day, he was constantly thankful for him. For the sweet texts he sent. For the little ways he made Cas laugh and blush. For the touch of his hand, and the way his eyes sparkled when he listened-- really listened-- to Castiel speak. 

But that didn't seem enough. That was how normal relationships worked, and he knew that if there was any word for their relationship, "normal" was not it. 

He'd have to complain less, for starters. Dean had to leave because he had to work because he loved his job. Cas shouldn't make him feel guilty for that. Not when he was reaping the benefits of it: living in this amazing apartment rent-free. 

But what else? Maybe he should offer more blowjobs. That seemed like something a celebrity of Dean's caliber would be getting very regularly. 

How weird that felt. He'd never really viewed their relationship like that before. One part celebrity, one part average person. It made him feel a little queasy in his stomach. 

This internal monologue was put on pause when he heard the door to the balcony slide open. He didn't take his gaze away from the skyline. Just sat silently while Dean slunk down into the seat beside him. 

He felt fingers intertwining between his own and a warm, wet sensation on the back of his hand. He flicked his eyes over to find Dean pressing a sweet kiss onto the skin there and staring up at Cas with green eyes. 

Cas breathed in a gasp of warm air and held it in his chest. He felt afraid to exhale, to break the spell of the moment. 

Dean remained quiet, too, just looking at Castiel with a mysterious quality to him. Eventually, he pressed one more kiss to Cas' hand.

"The cat threw up again."

The burst of laughter that came out of Castiel right then was the ugly, snorting kind, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. He didn't know where it came from. His body had been so tense, it was coiled up like a spring. He'd expected a lot of things to come out of Dean's mouth then. That certainly wasn't one of them. 

He spared a glance sideways, sighing loudly. He was still scared, but he felt better. "Are you kicking us out then?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Dean chided him. His smooth fingers stroked at the skin of Cas' arms. "You know how much I love you," he murmured gently.

Cas sucked in another deep breathe of air, attempting to keep himself calm. His stomach was still uneasy. He was angry, and scared, and relieved, and lot of other things his brain couldn't even put a label on. He had no idea what to say to Dean right then. 

Luckily, he didn't ave to. Dean had come prepared to speak for both of them. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm sorry that I wasn't here. I really wanted to meet your parents."

He sounded genuine and sweet, and Cas couldn't help but find that his reserves were crumbling. He nodded slowly, reaching over and taking one of Dean's hands into his. "You'll meet them. There will be other opportunities."

He didn't really feel like it was all okay. 'Forgiven' wasn't a word he would say. But he would snuggle in close to Dean and close his eyes, now relishing in the warmth that remained in the night breeze. He would let Dean wrap his arm around Cas' body and hold him gently, as if he was that Cas would break with the wrong amount of pressure.

"So we're okay?" 

Cas released a long sigh of air. He chewed on his lip, considering what exactly laid between those three words. 

Finally, he leaned over and planted a single kiss on Dean's lips. Light, barely just a grazing. Dean stared down at him, wide-eyed, like a thirteen year old on the receiving end of his first-ever kiss. 

"Yeah," he breathed out, and he felt a measure of relief flood in as he did. "We're okay." _For now_ , the mental addition he didn't dare to voice aloud. 

Dean pulled Castiel in tight against him. They sat out there until late in the night, when the air did turn cold and they had to retreat under several blankets for warmth. Cas felt proud of himself, of them both, that they had managed to make it through their first real argument at a couple. Despite the strange emotions that lingered, the solidity of their bond had been reinforced that evening. 

How was Castiel to know that with every added "sorry" he heard from Dean, every added apology, he would begin to wonder whether the word had any meaning at all? 

 

 


	9. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiiiiiinally! I've had the bones of this written up for so long and at LONG LAST I got around to the finishing touches. Here is your happy ending! Thanks to all who have commented and bookmarked and left kudos, your support and appreciation keeps me going during this tiresome 3 AM writing binges. (: Please let me know your thoughts, these stories are as much for me as they are for you!
> 
> And without further ado: Chapter 9.

In the end, Cas stayed on the clock for close to twenty-four hours. When his eighteenth hour came to pass, and his mind went back to the phone in his locker and the empty apartment that was waiting for him, he felt compelled to stay. He sought out more patients, offered assistance to understaffed ORs; even manned the phones at the nurses' station for a while when the girls went for lunch. 

But eventually, his body wore on him. He grew too exhausted to keep shuffling around. His body felt racked from a cycle of anger and adrenaline and desperation. So, he grabbed his things like it was any other day and headed downtown. 

He could have hailed a cab, but he found the slight buzz of the subway comforting. He liked being wrapped in a blanket of strangers, obscured in a train filled with bodies from which he was otherwise indistinguishable. 

The doorman greeted him with that same funny little smile he used to years ago, and it reminded Cas of when he used to visit this building as a guest. How he would stroll in free of worries. How much simpler things were then. 

Cas opened the door to the apartment and, as soon as he entered, heard a clattering coming from down the hall. _Good Lord_ , he groaned internally.

He hoped for a burglar. It was unlikely but, honestly, it seemed like the better option. 

He tiptoed along the hallway, making himself as quiet as humanly possible. As he reached the corner that lead into the kitchen, he peeked his head around the edge of the wall. 

There stood Dean, his back turned to Castiel, slumped against the kitchen sink. A single light shone directly down on his head, just barely noticeable in the mid-afternoon sunlight. If it weren't for his broken posture, it might look like a halo surrounding his head. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Cas shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor. He truly, truly did not have the energy for this right now. 

"I'm not allowed to be in my own apartment anymore?" Dean asked without turning around. He sounded tired, annoyed. "I pay for it, don't I?"

Cas leaned against the opposite wall, shrinking in on himself. "You're supposed to be in England."

"I came home early." On the last word, Dean spun around slowly. He looked Cas over from his head to his toes, his eyes glassed over. "I wasn't about to have the fight over the phone."

The tone in Dean's voice made Castiel want to crumble in even further. It sounded... final. It sounded done. Cas didn't know whether that made him feel relieved or crushed.

"I'm tired," he sighed, instead of confessing all that aloud. "I had a long day at the hospital, so..." 

"I had a long day," Dean challenged, his voice growing in strength. "I had a long _month._ I mean, you think I liked being away from you all that time? You think I enjoyed working twelve hour days? Going from press junket to interview to premiere, being fake and phony and so fucking bullshit all the goddamn time?" 

He threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "The only moments... the only time I got to be _real_ was when I was talking to you. And then the whole last week you're practically avoiding me. I mean, what the fuck was that about, Cas?"

Castiel held his gaze on the floor in front of him. He didn't have an answer for Dean; not a simple one, anyway. 

"So I cut my tour short and I fly six hours to be here-- and when you finally stumble in it's like I'm unwelcome in my own home. I-- I just," Dean spluttered, unable to find the words for whatever he was feeling. "What the hell is going on, Cas?"

He pinned Cas against the wall with a fearsome glare. It was like daggers shooting across the room. Part of Cas wondered if his flair for the dramatic was flowing over from his work life. He shook that thought away, though. 

"So, what? You came all this way just to break up with me?" Cas was too damn tired to beat around the bush.

Dean clenched his fingers tight on the counter as his eyes flew to Castiel's and his mouth formed into a tight line. "Is that what you want?"

Cas didn't raise his eyes. "I don't know. Care to make any more vile insinuations about me?"

Dean's shoulders slumped considerably and a good portion of the tension he seemed to be holding fell away. He wiped a hand over his face, sighing. Cas didn't know how to interpret that, but he had a few things he wanted to say before he lost any steam himself. 

"I can't believe you said that, Dean. I can't believe that you even put into words the notion that I would be unfaithful." Castiel shook his head. The hurt felt fresh now that he let himself remember.  "That was the worst thing you have ever said to me."

Dean leveled a glare across the room. "I can't believe that you said I would never prioritize you. As if I haven't been bending over backwards for you for three years. I mean: fuck, Cas, I hate flying. I hate it. And I was flying out here every weekend to come see you."

"I never made you leave," Cas yelled, gesturing his hands outward. "You chose to leave, every time."

Dean rolled his eyes, fingers turning white where they gripped the edge of the marble. 

"And then I would be alone, again. What, was I supposed to be grateful for the scraps of time you would grant me? That the great Dean Winchester chose me, a lowly commoner, at all?"

"That's not what I meant, Cas," Dean defended himself. "Don't twist my words."

"Twist your words?" repeated Cas. "Dean, I... I realized today that I don't even know when you're telling the truth. I have no idea how many times you've lied to me during our relationship."

His boyfriend stared back at him, looking as if he'd been slapped across the face. Castiel felt the space between them growing larger and larger, creating a canyon. "What does that even mean?"

Cas closed his eyes. If he could have mustered the physical strength, he might have been crying. 

He hated that idea. In all his years prior to his relationship with Dean, Cas couldn't recall a single time he'd ever cried. Now, it felt all too common an occurrence. 

"It means that I'm tired. That we've been doing this too long."

He allowed himself to meet Dean's eyes for the first time in a while. He found that they looked something akin to petrified. Dean had clearly not been expecting this answer. 

"For three years, Dean, it's been the same crap over and over again. You come home, and its good, and then you go. And then.... I feel empty. And I'm angry at you and I'm angry at myself."

Silence, thick and weighty, filled the room. It sat heavy on Castiel's chest, his heart. 

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Cas whispered at last, so low it barely registered. 

And that was all he could say.

"I wish I were happy that you were here. I really do." He turned toward the hallway, shoulders slumped low. "I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"Cas, don't walk away from this. I'm not done," yelled Dean, chasing after him. Castiel ignored his pleas, the heavy weight of twenty-three sleepless hours making his eyes begin to droop even while he was still walking. 

"Cas, listen to me."

His feet dragged along the hardwood floor, a long walk for his exhausted frame. He walked until he felt something connect with his shin, and then allowed the full weight of his body to collapse onto the couch, the soft leather brushing his skin with comfortable familiarity.

"Cas," the strong voice commanded from above him. "Cas, you are fucking kidding me right now."

Without opening his eyes, he reached for the quilt that he knew would be hanging over the end of the couch, and wrapped it tightly around his body. He focused on the rhythm of his breaths, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Felt the warm of the midday glow gracing his skin. Everything, every function of his racing brain, all zeroed in on these small feelings. 

And, then from down the hall, the crescendo of a door slam, followed by silence. 

**

As exhausted as he was, Cas knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Nevermind that it was four in the afternoon, and the bright New York sun was shining right in his face through the large windows of the living room. He slept for eight hours, straight through, though when he woke he felt anything but well rested. 

Instead, he felt discomfort emanating from his bones. His joints felt tight, and he could find no relief, no matter how he tossed and turned and stretched at all angles. For a while, he pretended not to know what was causing his discomfort. Tried not to think of Dean, lying alone in the other room. 

He was almost definitely not sleeping either. He never could sleep after a long flight, and that was without the disturbance of a major argument between them.

"Ugh," he sighed loudly, rolling over onto his side in an effort for find a more comfortable position. 

Why did Dean have to be so hot-headed? Why did he have to yell and say things that made Castiel want to punch his own boyfriend in the head? If only he could just calm down, take a breath, and have a serious talk like an adult without blowing up. 

They didn't fight often, and for that Castiel was thankful. He could count on one hand the amounts of times they have dissolved into shouting aloud at one another. Even less so the ones where it remained unresolved after they'd gone to bed. 

Perhaps that was the reason for the petrified feeling in Castiel's chest. Tonight... this felt different.

It didn't feel like he could just wake up and sneak into the bedroom, pretend he'd forgotten why he was mad and it would all be okay. He didn't think that he could wake up and look at Dean with anything other than burning anger and stinging hurt in his eyes. 

The distance, the constant hiding, the sharing Dean with the entire world. These things that they'd argued over tonight, the issues at the center of this cyclone... they were real. They were important, at least to Castiel. They weren't just going to magically sort themselves out, no matter how hard Cas wished they might.

And he wasn't sure how much longer he could put up with it all.  

But... if that meant losing Dean? Was that something he was willing to do?

Every part of him leapt from its place to yell, _no!_ His heart, his brain, his gut. They all told him that whatever it took, he and Dean would work this out together. They had to. 

But deep down inside, in his truest, darkest place... Cas wasn't so sure. Maybe it would be better to call it quits now. Maybe it was time for them to lead the separate lives that they were already living half the time. 

With another loud sigh, he tossed the quilt off his body and stood to move into the kitchen. All this thinking was making his throat feel insufferably dry. As he reached the kitchen sink and turned the faucet to fill his glass, his eyes fell to the box of chamomile tea that laid just beside it. 

He rolled his eyes up into his head. _No_ , he thought resolutely to himself. He might not be seething through his teeth anymore, but he was not going to be weak. Not going to be the first to give in. Absolutely not. 

Yet there he stood, moments later, awkwardly perched outside his own bedroom door, teacup in hand. For a half-second, he reconsidered-- thought about chucking the cup into the sink and returning to the couch for a few more hours of restless turning. Then, a noise came from behind the door: the sound of sheets rustling coupled with an aggravated grunt. 

Castiel pushed the door open just slightly and a crack of light illuminated the empty half of the bed. "Are you awake?" his voice came in a whisper. 

Silence maintained the room for a few long seconds, before he heard a small voice answer, "Yeah."

Dean didn't sound angry any more. He sounded exhausted, and frustrated. But Cas thought he was free of the chance of having anymore scornful words thrown at him. So he padded across the floor gently to where Dean lay and rested the cup and saucer on the small table just near his head. 

"I made you some of that tea you like," he noted softly. He tried not to make it sound like an outright apology. "I know how restless you are after a long flight."

He looked down at Dean's shirtless body lying, wrapped up in their sheets. He looked so much smaller now, so much softer. The room was so dark that Cas could only just barely see the shine of green in his eyes.

Dean sat up a little so that he was looking more diectly at Castiel. A long moment passed between them. 

After some time, Dean patted the empty side of the bed. "Come lie down?" It was a request, not a command. 

Cas did so without thinking. He moved over to his own side of the bed and crawled on. He positioned himself flat beside Dean, both on their side, facing one another. He was close enough to Dean to feel the heat radiating from his body. 

They spent a good long time in silence, lulled into comfort by the sound of one another's breaths. Cas felt his heart inside his chest, throat and stomach.

Finally, Dean reached over with one hand and cupped Castiel's jaw gently. His thumb stroked lovingly over the skin there. "Cas," he breathed, as if the name itself held so much.

Cas turned his head just slightly so that his lips pressed into Dean's palm. It was almost reflexive, like muscle memory. He wrapped his own fingers around the hand on his face and took comfort in the solidity there. 

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. "I'm sorry, Cas. For everything."

Castiel said nothing in response. He only breathed in another shaky pull of air. 

"I don't want to break up," confessed Dean, voice trembling. 

This time, Castiel did answer. "Me neither," he said earnestly. 

"I want you to know nothing happened with Lisa. I couldn't... I wouldn't ever do that to you."

A strange, sad smile crossed over Castiel's face in the dark. "I know that, Dean." 

"I was just so lonely... I wanted to see a friendly face." He paused. "You weren't the only one who was sad that I couldn't be here for your birthday."

The smile disappeared then. Castiel opened his mouth to rebuff that point, but before he could Dean spoke again. "Not that that... that's not fair. I'm the one who left. It's my fault."

Castiel swallowed thickly. He was tense now, under Dean's hand. "I want to tell you it's okay," he said. "I want it to _be_ okay. But it's hard sometimes. There are times...."

He trailed off. He feared saying something he couldn't take back. Something that would make Dean hate him. 

"What?" questioned Dean, tensely. "What is it? You can say it." 

"There are times when I just hate your job so much."

He wished that it weren't true, or that at least he could pretend that it wasn't. But the way Cas felt when those words left his lips, like a genie released from the imprisonment of a magic lamp. Like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And he knew right then that even if he could take the words back, he wouldn't want to. 

He closed his eyes and waited for Dean to start shouting. 

"I understand that," Dean said instead, stroking his thumb once more over the apple of Castiel's cheek. "You... you should be allowed to feel that way. You've been... you've just done a lot for me. A lot."

Castiel's eyes popped open in surprise. He certainly hadn't expect Dean to be so... understanding. But then, it wasn't really fair to underestimate him. For any flaws he might have, Castiel had never doubted how fiercely Dean loved him. He imagined that Dean, too, must have been lying awake for quite a long portion of the past evening, ruminating to himself about what exactly their relationship was worth. 

Spurred on by the encouragement, Castiel continued, "God, I just wish sometimes that we could be like everyone else. Like Jo and Victor. That we could go grocery shopping together. That we could go out to a bar and kiss and not have to worry about how it will impact us for the rest of our lives."

"Do you ever wish you never met me?"

"No!" The word burst out from Castiel before it even registered in his brain. "No. I never wish that. No."

He shook his head repeatedly, trying to shake off the bad feeling that the question gave him. Dean's hand on his jaw gripped tighter, as if reminding Cas that he was there. He was real. 

Cas felt lips on his forehead, and it anchored him. He opened his eyes and saw Dean, right there beside him. The sight calmed his heart and made everything feel right. 

Dean kissed him again on the forehead, then the temple, the cheek, the nose. "I love you," he murmured solemnly. 

"I love you," Cas responded, and the words had never felt more important than they were right then. 

"I..." Dean began, then trailed off. Cas looked up, worried, and saw that Dean's eyes were pressed tightly shut. He reached over and stroked his arm down Dean's side. He wanted to say, _I'm here too_.

"I get so scared to lose you, sometimes. All the time. I just know. I know I'm not enough."

"What are you talking about? You're enough. Of course you're enough, Dean." Castiel moved his arm gently over Dean's chest. He leaned in slightly nosed at the taut flesh of Dean's muscled arm, but the actor only spurned the embrace. He pushed his hands at Cas' face and tried to break away, made to roll over and away from Cas, but the smaller man pulled him back.

"Dean?" he asked in a worried tone.

He could see then the little hiccup in Dean's chest, as if he was suppressing tears. He didn't speak, not for quite a few moments.

"I'm not smart, Cas."

"You're sm--" 

"Not smart enough for you," Dean interrupted, "You should with someone like you. Someone with a big brain, who knows everything, who helps people..." His words faded and he began to move toward the far edge of the bed. 

Cas grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled Dean back onto the bed with more force than even he had been expecting. "Stop it. Stop it right now," he ordered, even as Dean gaped up at him, open-mouted and wide-eyed. "I am with you because I want to be with you. I could easily be dating another doctor, or a lawyer, or any crap like that. But I don't want to. I want you."

Cas loosened his grip but made sure that Dean could still feel the pressure of his fingers. "This is just ridiculous," he said, in almost a laugh. "I mean, for God's s-- you are literally the Sexiest Man Alive. For you to be jealous of a bunch of dorks in lab coats... it's absurd."

Dean started a bit, but relaxed at Cas' words. Castiel pressed in further, pushing Dean onto his back so that he could lay atop him. Then he drew back, raking his eyes over Dean's features. It was like he was a blank canvas, made for Cas to imprint upon. So, in an impulsive move, he set to work doing just that. He moved forward and began to pepper kisses all over Dean's muscular upper body, wanting to mark every spot with a kiss that he knew was meant just for him. 

"Cas..." Dean protested weakly, his arms moving to push the affections away. 

Cas caught Dean's arms with his own and held them in place. He moved back up so that the two of them were face to face. He pulled Dean into him, crushed their mouths together like they were running out of air and their only salvation lied in one another. 

It was desperate, in a way that Cas never knew he could feel. He needed Dean, needed him close, as close he could be, in every meaning of the world. He wanted the two of them to be entwined with each other in a way that no one else could ever be. 

"Kiss me," he begged in a whimper. "Make love to me." 

Dean was resisting, fighting the embrace. He seemed utterly finished, like all the fight had been taken out of him. He was passive, giving nothing back to Castiel. 

"Please, Dean. Show me you love me. I need you to. Please."

And that's when he changed. Dean sat up in a flurry, took Castiel in his arms and pressed their bodies together, shoving the smaller man down into the mattress with all his might. 

It was slow and intense. The way their bodies moved together was like a symphony: rising and falling and buidling into crescendo. Dean slid his hands all over Castiel's body, and the gestured was returned. Every movement, every touch gentle and possessive and dripping with the traces of threatened love. 

There were no words. They weren't necessary. Castiel thought that his hands and his lips were saying everything he would have even tried to. They came together in a heated, sweaty, massively powerful wave, like the breaking of a crest on fresh sand. Afterward, when they lay there in the dark, Cas cradled Dean's head on his chest while the other man cried silently against his body. He wrapped his arms more tightly, possessively, letting Dean know that he was for him through it all. All the while, feeling in his own body just the strangest kind of emotions coursing through his veins, reaching out the the furthest extremities.  

**

When Castiel woke in the morning, the first thing he noticed was the lack of weight on his chest. He rolled over, grabbing at the sheets, and found them empty. He untangled the sheets from between his legs and shifted himself to the edge of the bed. Through the doorway he saw that the sliding slaws doors to the balcony were open; and single leg, draped only in a terry cloth bathrobe, was propped up against the rough wall.

Cas leaned down toward the floor and grabbed at a discarded pair of sweatpants, slipped them on over his lower half and proceeded to pitter patter over to the open doorway. 

He took a seat silently on the opposite side of the balcony: far away from Dean, but close enough. He watched carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying to covertly survey Dean's body language. He hoped that they were, after last night's discussion, at least somewhat on the same page now. But it was hard to read Dean's expression. His trained facial muscles weren't giving away anything at all. 

"There's coffee in the pot, if you want any," Dean said casually, his eyes never leaving the horizon. 

"I'm alright for now," replied Cas, settling into his chair and copying Dean's relaxed body posture. He ran his eyes over Dean's beautiful face as the other man watched the sun rising in the distance. The serene look there gave Castiel a sense of calm like nothing else. He could feel in deep in his bones. 

He turned his own vision toward the sunrise and smiled at the sight of it. Nothing like a natural phenomenon to make you realize the scope of your problems. 

Castiel inhaled a deep breath. The morning air was so crisp. It made his lungs tingle and his skin feel quite awake. 

It was after a long time, when the sun had risen almost to its full visibility, that Dean finally spoke again. "I'm leaving the show."

Cas bolted upright in his chair. "What?"

Dean sipped leisurely from his coffee cup, not sparing a glance at his boyfriend. 

"I didn't ask you do to that," Castiel insisted. 

"I know you didn't. You didn't ask for anything." Another sip from his mug. "But I've asked a lot of you." 

Castiel didn't acknowledge that. "You love that show," he said instead. 

Now Dean turned his head and stared at Cas for a long moment. He had a funny look on his face, something like an old wisdom about him. Cas was sure there was something he wasn't saying. 

Dean set his coffee mug on the floor beside him. He straightened his back and spoke directly to Cas. "It's time. I was going to have to move on eventually, and now is the right time." He paused a beat. "I'm going to sell my place in LA and live here full time."

Cas' jaw dropped. Of all the outcomes he had imagined from their conversation last night, only in his wildest imagination would it have turned out like this. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep himself from growing too excited. 

"What about your career? You were working out there for a reason."

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, his lips cocking into a twisted smile. Cas had missed seeing him smile. "Do you know how many shows shoot here in New York, Cas? How many features? I'll land something new in no time. And if I don't, who cares? I've spent too long focusing on my career. I have more important things to think about now." 

Cas felt the morning air catch in his lungs. He wondered absently if he might be dreaming. Perfect moments like this seemed reserved for dreams. Well, dreams and Dean Winchester movies. 

He surreptitiously pinched at a patch of skin on his thigh. It hurt. 

This was definitely real. 

"Guess you'll have to be the breadwinner for a little bit," Dean smiled at him across the balcony. "You gonna be okay with that?" 

Castiel found himself wearing a similar expression. "I think I can adjust."

Dean nodded, seeming pleased with the answer. 

"I want to ask one thing of you though," he said a while later. "Well, two things. The first goes along with the second."

Castiel chewed his lip thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

"I want you to come out. As my boyfriend. I want you to come to an event with me so that everyone knows who you are in my life."

The air that had caught in Cas' lungs came out in a punched exhalation. He couldn't say that this hadn't entered his mind, as well. 

Dean was watching him, carefully, and seemed to feel confident enough to go on. He fixed his gaze on Cas and told him, "This isn't something that's ever going to go away. As long as I am who I am, it's always going to be a problem. I don't want to hide anymore. I want to show you off to every friend and colleague I have. I know we've talked about this before, and you have your reservations, but..."

"Okay."

Dean shot Cas a confused look. "Okay?"

"Okay," Cas repeated, the edges of his lips curling into a funny little smile. Dean's eyebrow shot up, pinning Castiel to the spot, and so the young doctor conceded, "I think you're right. This isn't going to go away. And... I don't plan on going away anytime soon, either." He smiled delicately in his boyfriend's direction. "I'll figure out the rest of it, afterward. Right now, you're the most important."

Dean stood up suddenly and walked over so that he was stood in front of Castiel. He leaned down and kissed Cas on the lips, soft but with distinct purpose. Then he pulled back and flashed a smile. 

"I'm glad you agree," he murmured as his eyes drifted hungrily over Castiel's features. Cas laughed, and pulled him by the hand so that he was sat right beside Cas, their thighs rubbing together territorially. Dean raised one arm and threw it around Cas' smaller frame so that he could pull the two of them firmly together. Castiel laughed and snuggled into the embrace, finding that his head and chest felt more clear than he could remember. 

It was a few minutes of this wonderful bliss before a thought occurred to Castiel and he popped his head up. "What was the other thing?" he questioned curiously.

"Oh right," Dean muttered, and Castiel could swear that he actually saw a distinct pinkish color appear on the other man's cheeks, "I want us to talk about getting married."

This time Castiel didn't even hesitate before he leaned and pressed a kid against Dean's temple. "Alright. We can talk about that."

Dean leaned down and captured Cas' lips between his, wrapped his arms so tightly around his chest that it felt like their two bodies would be forged into one by the pressure. Castiel was glad that his answer had been met with such fervent appreciation. And to be honest, the question had stirred his stomach in such a way that he would welcome melting into Dean with a open arms.

When Dean atlas pulled away from the embrace and panted against his lover's neck, earnestly, "So we're good?" Castiel didn't even think about his answer.

"We're good," he smiled, leaning in for another hot kiss and letting his hands wander around Dean's sculpted torso. "We're very, very good."

And it pleased him to know end to know that it was the absolute, one hundred percent, God's honest truth. Not _for now_ , he noted confidentially to himself. _For good_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, I'm marking this story as finished for now (in a shameless effort to boost readership), but worry not! You do have an adorable epilogue coming your way, and hopefully it won't take quiteeee as long to get shipped out. Again, thanks to you all, and my eternal love for you.


	10. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all. 
> 
> Newsflash: I fucking suuuuuck. I said that this would be out quicker than my other updates, and I totally dropped the ball cus I'm a dick. My endless apologies. Thank you for all your patience, life has been crazy and I have a million story ideas and I just can't make myself finish a single one. Ugh. 
> 
> But here it is. Fair warning, it's midnight right now and I literally just finished this two minutes ago (hot off the press!) and I haven't proofread at all. So please let me know if there are any glaring errors or if anything doesn't make sense. And, as always, I revel in hearing your thoughts and opinions about everything so please leave a comment telling me how you like it!
> 
> Anyways, I'll shut up now. Please enjoy. Your final chapter. (:

Castiel looked down at his watch as he shuffled towards the break room as quick as his feet could carry him. A long sigh escaped him, addressed to nothing and no one in particular. 

He should have left twenty minutes ago. Now he’d just barely have time to grab a cab back to their place to meet Dean, shower and get dressed. 

“Ugh,” he groaned aloud. Ideally, he liked to have a bit more time to prepare himself for these things. Unfortunately for Cas, ‘ideal’ and his schedule weren’t a pair that matched up very often. If he could just manage to grab his things and sneak out before anyone could pull him--

“Castiel!”

He turned on his heels in the blink of an eye and attempted to abscond himself behind a wall. But Hester was a force to be reckoned with, and she would never let him get away that easily. She rounded on him like a hawk, boxed him in until there was nowhere to go. Then she shoved a clipboard into his hands, completely ignoring the sighs and pleas that flowed from his lips. 

“No,” he tried to tell her. “Hester, you know I can’t today, I already should have been gone by now--”

She just shook her head and grimaced. “If it were up to me, you would be. This comes from Zach.” Noticing the look of fear that crossed over Castiel’s features, she softened slightly. “Listen, we’re all swamped here. It’s just a quick exam, you’ll be out of here in twenty minutes. You can have loverboy meet you downstairs.”

“Ha,” Cas chuckled dryly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Hester patted a hand on his shoulder as she moved past him to continue on her mission. “Thanks, Cas. And have fun tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. He flipped the folder open and scanned its contents quickly. Not much he could do other than smile and do as he was told. Especially when the orders came from the dreaded Zachariah. He hadn’t been giving Cas nearly as much trouble lately-- Cas liked to think that it was because of his own merits as a physician, but he was enough of a realist to accept that there may have been ulterior motives-- and the young doctor wasn’t eager to get back on his bad side. 

Which was how he found himself strolling into Exam Room 2 with his serious business face on, ready to get in and out as quickly and professionally as possible. Inside the room were two young girls: one, around ten years old, who sat on the exam table with her leg propped up and tears staining her face; the other in her late teens, sitting in a chair at the edge of the room. Both raised their gaze to Castiel the minute he walked in. 

“Good afternoon,” he smiled politely, first to the injured girl and then to the other. “I’m Dr. Novak. What seems to be the problem here?”

He approached the young girl on the table with caution, noting how she flinched when he reached for her leg. Looking at it, it was probably an oblique fracture of the bone, though it was possible for a more clean break. In any case, his work would be quick and simple here. Send them down to radiology for an x-ray and then off to orthopedics for a cast and probably some crutches.  

“Did you take a little tumble?” he asked in a kind voice, trying to set the young girl at ease. She stared at him, eyes wide and still a little reddened from what must have been a long time spent crying. She was trying her best to be brave now, that much he could tell. His heart panged with sympathy for the poor thing. A wave of guilt flowed over him for begrudging spending the time here. It was his job, after all, wasn’t it? 

The younger girl looked over toward what Castiel assumed was her older sister. Without thinking, he followed her line of sight, and that was when he noticed it. The intense way hat the older girl was staring at him, as if scrutinizing his every feature. 

“Ohmygod,” she exhaled at last, in a single breath. 

“I’m sorry?” the doctor replied. He thought maybe, for a moment, that the realization that her poor sister was in pain had struck her at last, after a period of shock. 

But then, he saw the magazine that she clutched against her chest and, well... this routine was starting to lose its luster.

“You’re Castiel Novak. You’re dating Dean Winchester. Ohmygod, you’re Dean Winchester’s boyfriend. Ohmygod.”

Cas could feel the intense blush creeping over his cheeks. He turned his attention back to his patient and shook his head. “I’m going to touch your leg gently in a few places, okay? I’ll try not to hurt you, but let me know if it does.”

“Ohmygod, Lilith,” the teenager continued to Cas’ chagrin, “do you know who is touching you? Those hands have touched _Dean Winchester_!”

Cas rolled his eyes so that only Lilith could see. For the first time, she produced a little giggle. Cas felt almost proud of himself for that. 

“Please, you have to sign my _People_ ,” she begged, holding it out in front of her. “It’s got a picture of you and Dean eating Pinkberry.”

Cas could barely begin fathom how weird his life had become in the past few months. The one upside to this particular situation becoming more common was that he’d developed a rather inventive strategy to push the attention away from himself. 

“I’m sure you don’t want my signature,” he told her sheepishly. “If you want, I can fake Dean’s for you. I’ve gotten very good at it.”

The younger sister smiled widely. She, at least, found Castiel’s sense of humor enjoyable. 

The older girl just shook her head. “Mm-mn. No. I want yours. So it’s real.”

Castiel decided to go back to ignoring her. This was the exact kind of stuff he didn’t have time for right now. He turned to Lilith and pulled out his scrip pad. “Here’s what I’m gonna do, Lilith. Can I call you that?”

The brave little girl nodded silently. Cas rewarded her with a bright smile. “Great. You can call me Cas if you want.”

“That’s what Dean calls him!” was squealed from behind them, but Cas and Lilith seemed to have reached a silent agreement to pretend they couldn’t hear anything. 

“I’m gonna send you down to take some pictures of your bones,” he went on. “And then you’ll go to another doctor who will take care of everything else. Give you a cast and some crutches to impress your friends with. But, first, I’m going to write you a prescription for some medicine that will take away some of the pain. Do you have any questions?”

Lilith shook her head. 

“Good,” he nodded, ripping off a piece of paper and handing it to her. “If that’s it, you can head downstairs and I’ll be on my way. It was nice to meet you, Lilith.” He purposely smiled extra big in her direction and turned his back quickly before the teenaged girl could start in again. 

Just before he closed the door to the exam room behind him, he heard a piece of paper being snatched away and a high-pitched squeal of, “This has his signature on it!”

He stole a nervous glance down at his watch and winced. Now he’d never manage to make it home in time. He probably didn’t even have time to grab a quick shower in the locker room. 

It was moments like these that he actually treasured the fact that he was terribly pessimistic, and had never believed he would make it out on time anyway. It meant that he had already brought a suit with him and told Dean this morning to meet him at the hospital. 

He rushed in to the locker room and rinsed himself in the shower for no more than three minutes. No time to waste here. Then he tossed his dirty scrubs into the hamper and got dressed into the black suit and white dress shirt that hung in his locker: so very, very out of place among scrubs and sweatpants and surgical gloves. 

Cas was giving himself one last once-over, adjusting his tie and fixing his hair, when who walked in, but Aaron. 

“Well, hello, Dr. Novak,” greeted the intern, his sense of naive confidence pouring off him in buckets. “Off to a gala with Mr. Winchester?”

Castiel turned around slowly, a rueful smile playing on his lips. Whether or not Aaron had feelings for him, he never found out, but he did notice that their dynamic shifted considerably once he and Dean had “come out” (for lack of a better term). 

Aaron reacted as if he were shocked (understandable), and jealous (interesting), and more than a little intimidated (can’t be blamed for that). But in any case, he’d backed off considerably and for that Castiel was grateful. 

“Something like that,” he admitted with a smile. “I’m running terribly late, I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

He nodded politely and made his quick exit, hoping that Dean would already be waiting for him downstairs. He decided to walk over to the other side of the building, where the elevators were less likely to be filled with patients and other hospital staff. 

Not to be vain, but this was a nice suit, and he didn’t want to risk getting any bodily fluids on it if it could be avoided. 

While he waited for the elevator, his mind wandered a bit to the great changes his life had been through in the past few months. He thought of Dean, and of the hospital, and how the two had intersected. 

Now that it was public knowledge that he was Dean’s boyfriend, he was able to arrange some opportunities for the actor to visit the hospital in character, which really helped boost morale in some wards where the patients felt particularly hopeless. The fact that it was excellent PR for the hospital and it had sent Zachariah practically kissing Castiel’s feet were of course tangential benefits. 

The elevator dinged to announce its arrival and Castiel stepped in to the empty lift.

The best part, though, of Dean’s visits had been the chance Castiel had to watch him interact with the children. He’d visited the burn wards, the pediatric oncology… they weren’t easy places to be. But Dean had acted so comfortable, so effortless. Like nothing could have made him happier to be there, to be with those kids. 

He had been so _Dean_ about the whole thing. It made Castiel fall more in love with him every time he watched, and even now thinking about it, it was as if his heart was doing flips inside his chest.

Another ding told Castiel that he’d reached his destination. He dusted off the front of his jacket one final time before exiting the lift and walking briskly through the busy lobby. He was almost run into by a gurney and narrowly avoided crushing an unattended child... but when he reached the sliding front doors, he found his chariot awaiting. 

Subtle, and elegant: a small black town car. He opened the door and slid inside, sighing in the deepest relief as he did.

“Long day?” a smooth voice asked. 

Castiel looked over and smiled slightly. “Mm. Very. I see you decided not to going with the stretch limousine.”

Dean’s lips stretched into a smile that rivaled Castiel’s and he slid his body closer. “You know, someone told me there’s something to be said for a quiet sophistication.”

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed thoughtfully, relaxing further into the comfortable leather seat, “and whoever could that incredibly wise man have been?” 

“Mm, can’t recall,” Dean answered coyly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against the warmth of Castiel throat. “Anyways.... you look ravishing.”

Cas was already rolling his eyes at the compliment. “That’s kind of you to say, I di-- are you wearing makeup?”

He reached a hand out to wipe experimentally at Dean’s chin, but the other man jerked his head away, frowning a bit. Castiel giggled to himself as color rose over Dean’s cheeks. “You’re a painted whore,” he teased.

Dean leveled a glare his way, but there was no heat to it. “I’m an actor, I wear makeup all the time. _And_ ,” he added in a more fierce tone, “can’t be a whore. I’m in a committed relationship.”

“Oh, right. I had forgotten about that.”

“Mm, I bet you did,” Dean said, placing another few kisses on his Castiel’s jaw. “Tell me about your day. Zach make you stay late?”

The irritation behind his boss’ name in Dean’s mouth actually made Castiel feel minutely better for some reason. Now that Dean could put a face to the name behind Castiel’s work horror stories, his patience for the insufferable man had diminished even below his previous distaste.

“Yes,” answered Castiel, “but it was alright. My last patient was a little girl, ten years old, with a broken leg. She was clearly in a lot of pain, but she was trying so hard to look brave in front of me. I was so impressed with her. Really.”

Beside him, a sneaky, teasing grin cracked over Dean’s face. “Aww. Did it make you feel all paternal? Make you think about having kiddos of our own?”

Castiel looked down at him so they were locking eyes. “Yes,” he answered honestly, “it did.”

The marriage question hadn’t been officially asked yet, but they talked about it most days. Sometimes it was an offhanded comment (“that’d be a nice place to get hitched”) and sometimes more serious (“do you see us adopting or using a surrogate?”); but it was very clear to the two of them that it was going to happen. They just weren’t in any rush to the altar. They’d get there when they needed to.

Dean smiled wide at Castiel’s response, pulling him down by the sleeve so that he could gently press their lips together. Castiel moaned appreciatively. 

“Hey,” Dean said, pulling his lips back just slightly, “I’d say we have ten solid minutes to make out before we get there. What do you think?”

“I think… yes,” Castiel replied giddily, already leaning in to reconnect his mouth with Dean’s. 

Precisely twelve minutes later by Dean’s Rolex, they pulled up to a sidewalk where it became very obvious that they had reached their destination. Even through the heavily tinted windows, lights were flashing and the noise had risen a sharp two hundred precent in volume in a very short time. 

This was all still new enough that it made Cas’ stomach turn to be out there, exposed, the bright lights of the cameras flashing in his face. It was disorienting. Often times the only thing keeping him from keeling over was the feeling of Dean’s hand in his keeping him there. 

Castiel didn’t want to be there. If given the choice, he could have lived his entire life without ever walking a red carpet and would have been all the more happy for it. But he loved Dean, and Dean loved being famous. And after three years of hiding away, he was ready to make a few small sacrifices for the man he’d chosen to spend his life with. 

Still, Dean knew not to linger on the red carpet too long. He’d been doing this dance long enough that this part didn’t hold much excitement anyways. He only wanted to do a quick walk through, pose for a few pictures, and answer a few questions. And, much to Cas’ discomfort, he often liked to stop and plant a big kiss on Castiel’s lip in front of the cameras before they made their eventual way inside. 

Small sacrifices. Cas could live with it. 

Tonight was a premiere for some new summer blockbuster with a star-studded cast. Dean was in it, only for a brief moment. But it was a good schmoozing opportunity, so Crowley had insisted he make an appearance. (“Plus, free food,” Dean had supplied with a winning smile while he was attempting to coax Cas into coming). 

Before the screening, there was a sort of cocktail hour, that was rife with so many A-List celebrities Castiel felt like he was living inside the E! Channel. Of course, he-- being totally illiterate to modern pop culture-- recognized a lot of faces but had nothing to say to them when they came over to speak to Dean. After the first few people it got too uncomfortable, so he made Dean tell him at least one film they’d appeared in so he could compliment them on it. 

“I really enjoyed your performance in _Birdman_ ,” he told one celebrity before they stepped away from a conversation with Dean. “You were great in _The_ _Grand Budapest Hotel_ ,” he said to another. “I loved you in _Iron Man_.”

Initially, they all replied with polite small, demure nods, grateful words. The last few, however, all looked at him in a peculiar way, like what he’d said had confused them, before politely excusing themselves. 

Castiel whipped his head around to Dean as their last conversation partner faded into the background. “Dean, are you purposely telling me incorrect films?” he hissed at his boyfriend in the most accusatory way he could without drawing any adverse attention to them. 

Dean only responded by throwing his head back in utter amusement, and tugging Castiel into his side. The doctor frowned and shook his head, but didn’t fight the embrace. The lights in the lobby began to flicker, letting the attendees know that it was time to proceed into the screening room. 

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean encouraged, “time to watch your man light up the big screen.”

He walked toward the theatre, pulling Castiel by the hand along with him. Cas had started to follow when suddenly he stopped cold. “Wait. Dean.”

Dean listened. He spun on his heels, raised his eyebrows at Castiel while the rest of the crowd rushed around them. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen one of your movies.”

Cas said this as if it was very serious news, as if this milestone was the latest make-or-break moment of their relationship. Dean looked at him curiously, as if trying to recall an example to disprove the statement. 

Finally, the actor let out a single, high-pitched laugh. “Ha! Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Cas knew he was talking about the movie, specifically. But watching the people around them moving like water, the glitz and the glam of the room, Dean here in front of him in a well-tailored suit, instead of holed up in the apartment in a pair of sweatpants: he thought maybe the sentiment had larger implications, too. 

“Yes, it did,” Castiel agreed. “But I’m here now.”

A smile appeared on Dean’s lips. A meaningful one that let Castiel know that Dean’s mind was in the exact same place as his own. “But you’re here now.”

They waited another moment until the crowd thinned out a bit, until an usher approached them to warn them that the film was just about to begin. Dean looked over at Castiel with the same lingering smile, reaching out for his hand one more time. “Come on,” he said, inviting Cas along with him. 

Castiel accepted, placing his hand into Dean’s. They walked through the sparkling lobby, past the grand doors that led to the screening room, and took their seats in the pitch black theatre. 

And then they waited for it to begin. 


End file.
